Two Snakes One Bullet
by QuiteAlotOfSodaPop
Summary: Rewritten version of a previous story. What if the creature that found itself thrown out into the desert and given the title of Sheriff was a snake? AU. Implied Rango/Jake later on.
1. Chapter 1

_**-Okay after a very long hiatus I've decided to revive this mess. Now with better writing and pacing.**_

Three humans chattered non-stop as they loaded their car with boxes of all shapes and sizes. Packing for a vacation is always a chore, especially when the kid has so many knick-knacks and toys to stuff into a case.

"Did you remember the snake?" the tall human asked the smallest, causing the baseball capped juvenile to huff and go back into the home, reappearing moments later with a much-too-tiny vivarium containing one very confused ball python. The snake knew for a fact that the humans were leaving for a few days but didn't really know why HE was coming.

Stacked precariously on top of a indigo suitcase in the very back of the car, the python licked at the air, tasting sunblock, a new book that the female human was planning on reading for the long drive and a cockroach that had died in his water dish.

As the yellow beast burst into life, the snake was forced to lay his head down on the rocky floor of his vivarium to prevent himself from being tossed around by the sudden activity. The door to the back of the car smacked curiously against it's chassis. The humans should get that lock fixed.

As he was trying to deduce what exactly the humans were doing with him, the words "drop it off" and "getting too big for you (the small human)" painted the whole picture. The serpent shook his head in an almost tired manner, it was just like the other families. His very first memory was being picked out at a funfair as a very strange prize, only to be dropped off at a pet store the very next day. Same old same old.

No use in mourning the loss of his humans now, he should practice his newest persona for the next owner. Luckily the small human had let him use (read; mutilate) a pair of Barbie dolls as "friends", although ever since Ken was crushed into oblivion in a re-enactment of "Macbeth" he only had the torso and right arm of Barbie to work with. Of course the humans at least let him keep the shirt the doll was wearing. Fit him like a charm save for the sleeves.

Sticking his head out of his glass case, he looked out at the landscape surrounding the car. A large expanse of desert and burning sand caught his eye, zooming past the windows like a photo. Not thinking much of it, the python curled back into his vivarium where the sunlight didn't blind him.

Deciding what play he should do, the python set up his props and tied the shirt around him like a cape. Doing some mouth and voice exercises he opened his make up performance with "Okay everybody. Let's take it from the top."

In the midst of a creative epiphany he failed to notice the human's car beep loudly and swerve to avoid an out of control SUV. It was only when the lock on the back door broke off and he suddenly seemed to be much father away from the humans did the snake realised hat had happened.

Lying on the dusty pavement staring at the sky, he blinked in shock as his "co-actors" slid next to him at the fringes of the fairly large and currently silent road. Thank what ever spirit for that shard of glass underneath him, if it had broken or moved he would have surely been harmed.

The flapping noise of Mr Timms' tail snapped him out of his daze. "Mr Timms..." he mutter weakly as the water from his dish literally evaporated before his eyes. Either absorbed into the ground or was burnt away by the infernal sun.

Seeing was proving difficult as the snake's skin began to peel and crack over his eyes only after two minutes exposure to the arid air. As the two dead layers were blown away, the snake was left with fresh green scales that seemed to burn when facing the sun.

"Oy!" a voice called out from the road. Picking up his toy glass, the snake held it up to his eye to magnify the figure, promptly dropping it when he saw a rather flattened armadillo beckoning him to help him up.

Today was certainly going to be a hard first act of his new life.

**/X\**

Everything was so _hot_.

The python begun to mumble nonsense as the heat and thirst affected his thoughts. The armadillo had pointed in a direction and told him to keep going until he found "Dirt". Stupid name for a town if you were to ask him. "Oasis" or "Town in the middle of Nowhere Nevada" sounded more fitting.

"Four score and..seven years ago...our fath-"

"**Don't move.**"

The sudden demand caused the snake to jump in fright, looking around frantically for it's source, only for his eyes to fall onto a strangely human-like cactus. Thinking that it was only his mind the snake attempted to slither away only to hear a much more forceful:

"DON'T MOVE."

"Not moving!" the serpent yelped loudly, only to be shushed and replied with a whispered. "Not moving."

"Try to blend in."

"Wh-what do you mean?" He spotted an oddly shaped rock just a few feet away. Edging closer, he was taken aback by an eye opening and shutting with another demand of "blend in". "Wh-what are you saying?" the python asked before the shadow of a large bird flew overhead.

"Too late." the "rock" snickered.

"Nonononono! Not too late!" the snake panicked, tossing sand onto himself and slithering in circles until he smacked off a cactus, the "rock" yelling at him to "try not to look conspicuous".

As the bird did a turn towards the ground, instinct took over and he began curling himself into a ball so that it would have trouble getting at his head.

"Hey- hey what are you doing?" the "rock" asked confused as the snake continued to form into a ball.

"I'm blending in!"

"Go blend somewhere else!"

"It's an art not a science!" the two argued until the unmistakable screech of a hawk rang out.

"Oh! Here she comes! You better run mojito!"

"I thought you said not to move!"

"That was before. Now, you run."

The snake screamed as the hawk flew down to catch him, slithering at a pace he never thought possible. The "rock" laughed darkly at him as he fled.

The hawk was so big compared to him. The ball python was so used to being the largest animal in the shop that he never really thought of anything other than dogs and humans being bigger than him but he was dwarfed by the avian predator behind him.

As he felt the nip of a metallic (metal? No use wondering right now) beak, the snake did both a brave and very dumb move. He twisted around and wrapped around the hawk's body. The bird began thrashing as the force of the snake made breathing difficult.

Throwing him off, the snake was sure that he would be eaten, only for the bird to lose interest and grab a much easier prey.

"YOU SON OF A-" the "rock" yelled as the hawk decided to grab him in favour of the constrictor.

The python sighed. This is most certainly not a good first act.

**/X\**

A rattlesnake hissed as it dragged itself from it's hiding spot, tasting the hot, dry air.

He cringed as an unfamiliar taste caught his attention. It seemed very...alien to the sidewinder. It was unmistakably another reptile but not one he would be accustomed to. The rest of it was faint and cloying, almost like smoke or still air.

The pit viper threw himself back under his rock when he picked up the scent of a hawk. Awful creatures. He wouldn't admit it but he was terrified of the winged beasts, everything else was just either food or cannon fodder.

Metalbeak, as he and a few others had dubbed the female hawk, flew overhead with a toad in her talons. Strangely she looked winded, even tired. Unusual seeing how her metal additions made killing prey an easy task. She must have gotten into a fight with another hawk or even a larger animal.

The rattlesnake suddenly thought of the alien taste in the air. Whatever it was, it was more than likely the thing that roughed up Metalbeak.

Slithering cautiously away from his rock, the pit viper continued to follow the taste, occasionally finding disturbed sand and a few loose cactus quills.

His trail seemed to end by the human-made road where metal carriages rumbled "_hrududu_" away in both directions. A pile of shattered glass caught his attention along with a few plastic knick-knacks. Obviously whatever had suddenly stunk up the air was a pet.

The rattlesnake shook his head, pets don't live long out here. Too ill-prepared, too fragile from years of being coddled and petted to survive.

But this pet was able to rough up a hawk. Hell knows how big or fearless the creature was. The trail of the reptile continued well into the desert, in the direction of the town of Dirt.

The pit viper snickered darkly, either the beast was going to kill or be killed by the snake-fearing residents or maybe just be recruited by the shrivelled old bastard of a tortoise sitting comfy in the town hall.

He hissed under his breath "Things just got a little more interesting."

After all, he wondered how the pet could match up to the feared Rattlesnake Jake.

_**-I hoped that was a good start. I am planning on leaving the original alone and use it as a rough draft of the work here. I decided that Jake would be much more interested if he caught whiff of a new snake in the area.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Miss Beans was a smart woman. Some might say a bit loose in the head, but they don't dare to say it to her face. She was sure that someone was dumping deposits of water out here. The plant life in the "hotspot" areas were too healthy, sprouted too many saplings, the soil too thick for just a freak downpour or trickle.

As she rode from her ranch to the town, she kept a watchful eye on the old storm drain just a few miles away. It was originally used by humans to get rid of flood waters, but the amount that burst from it on a regular basis was unnatural. It had to be something sinister, she just knew it.

As if someone turned on a tap, a great big gush of clean water began pouring out onto the heavy sand.

Staring in disbelife, Beans gestured her javelina towards the anomaly. She was going to get who was dumping water even if it killed her.

She readied her gun and stood her ground, if someone was dumping water they would be nearby. Of course she was slightly thrown off when a particularly large green snake flowed out with the precious liquid.

It was strangely well-fed and healthy, with bright yellow eyes and a banded scale pattern akin to summer foliage, it certainly set some alarm bells off in Bean's head. What on earth was this thing eating to stay this fat and unblemished?

No use wondering now. Miss Beans had a job to do.

The python felt like he was drowning.

Impossible seeing how he was in the middle of the gosh darn desert, sleeping in an abandoned drain pipe. It was only when the water propelled him out into the open did he realised that it was no dream.

He scrambled for a taste of water, resorting to even trying to eat the soaked dirt until he came face to face with a pair of leather shoes, owned by a lady with a gun.

"Get your slimy wet phalanges off my boots!" the lizard barked, causing the snake to back down with his tail protecting his face. "I got a beat on you stranger, so git up real slow. Unless you want to spend the afternoon puttting your FACE back together!"

Out of instinct the python curled himself into a ball, hoping that the threat of bullet wounds would solve itself.

Miss Beans was dumbfounded, pretty much all snakes she had ever come across had either bared their fangs or wielded their guns. This one was whimpering "N-no ma'am, I don't." with a shotgun to his head. Must be a juvenile.

"Who are you?"

"Wh-who...?" the snake seemed confused by the question. He never really knew what his multitude of owners had dubbed him and the most recent never bothered to call him anything other than "the snake".

The shotgun jabbed him under the chin as the woman continued her interrogation. "I'm asking the questions here! Our town is drying up, we're in the middle of a drought and now someone's been dumping water in the desert. Now it's a puzzle of indeterminable size and dimension but I plan on finding what role you're playing in all of this."

At the mention of "role", the snake's eyes lit up in familiarity. "Role?"

"What our you invovled in?" Beans was sure that this serpentine feller had at least some inkling of the perpetrators, if he wasn't one of them.

"Oh! Two one acts, a mystery, and a musical I have been working on. I have the words but I still need to find a melody."

Well that goes that theory.

Miss Beans looked blankly at the snake as it hummed a jaunty tune. He was a complete outsider, and an idiot to boot. "You ain't from around here are you?" she asked dryly, turning back to her carriage. She tensed up when the snake began following her, mumbling that he was "working on it".

"What's your name?" he inquired with a dumb smile on his face.

"Beans." she replied curtly, placing her shotgun in it's place behind the driving seat.

"That's a funny kinda name."

"What can I say? My daddy plum loved baked beans." she recalled her father. Great rancher and father, never got drunk near mineshafts, no siree. Anybody saying other wise was a dirty liar.

"Well, you're lucky he didn't plum love Asparagus." the snake prattled, poking at the iguana's collection of bottles, all tied neatly to the carriage.

"What are you saying?" she asked defensively, nobody makes a crack at her father's naming conventions.

"Well I enjoy a hearty good Puttanesca myself, but I'm not sure that a child would appreciate the moniker." he snickered internally at his joke, recalling a time when one of his smaller owners had ran around the house screaming the pasta dish's translation.

"Well, my daddy was a great man, even if he did exhibit the proclaim for legumes." She stop dead when she noticed the serpent licking at the blackened jar. "You eatin' his ashes!" she proclaimed loudly, grabbing the jar away from the disgusted snake.

"Ew! You carry his remains?" the python felt as though he had to bleach his tounge off for that.

"No, his ashes. He loved to smoke." Beans tucked the jat safetly away in the corner of her carriage, away from curious reptiles. "We never found the body."

"Oh well, I'm sure he had his reasons." the python muttered mindlessly, not realising the caliber of his statement.

Miss Beans quickly became exasperated, rolling off how her father was a good man that most certainly hadn't been drinking that month and wasn't absent for a delicate development in her childhood. As her voice became more strained she suddenly stood still, her eyes wide and unblinking.

The python was sure that he had broken his new friend and placed his tail on her shoulder for the time being. At least her pulse was still going.

"...and until the people of Andromeda Five return him safe and sound, I will not sell my ranch!" she tuned in after two minuetes of utter silence, staring at the tail on her shoulder. "Get that off me would you?"

"You went completely still!" the snake exclaimed in confusion, sniffing to make sure that the iguana was still living.

"It's a defense mechanism. I'm sure lots of reptiles have it." she boarded her carriage with her head held high. Grabbing the reins, she turned to her newly found shadow. "You going anywhere?"

He looked solemly out towards the west, his voice trailing away. "I was told to go find Dirt."

Beans had to feel pity for the serpent, feller hadn't an inkling of where he was or what was going on. She figured that he only recently migrated west, lots of settler groups would disband or die off before they got to their destination. She knew she'd kick herself for this later but she offered "Do want a ride into town?"

"Ye-yeah! Sure, okay." he bundled himself on the passengers seat with great difficulty. The javelina trotted away, pulling the rickety carriage behind it.

"I gotta ask you, what IS your name?" Beans asked, not catching it the first time.

"Well...I'm glad you asked."


	3. Chapter 3

"...there's my nom de plume, I am one of very few men with a maiden name-"

"Whoa! Here we are." the irritated iguana exclaimed, stopping the carriage a small distance away from town.

The python looked at the image of the town with an anti-climatic look on his face. He certainly thought the ride would last a wee bit longer than this.

"Oh. Well.." he removed himself from the carriage, making sure to thank his driver. "I do appreciate this Miss Beans and if there's anything-" Before he could finish, she had driven off deeper into the town without so much a goodbye, leaving him waving awkwardly.

The town was near picturesque. Well as much as a dried out, western frontier town in the middle of nowhere could be. A sign with the words "Welcome to Dirt" burnt into it's wooden frame was the only object not covered in a hot airy haze.

The snake slithered forward, noticing how there was a carriage of people (likely a group of ranchers) leaving with the short explanation of "no water". He didn't really think much of it.

A few people backed away, keeping their children close to their hips when they caught sight of the serpentine visitor. He was so fat and healthy compared to so many wanderers and vagabonds that frequented the area. With a hyper carnivore like snakes it didn't bode well.

A gaggle of stupidly brave children slung a rock at the green serpent's head, causing it to let out a not-so scary yelp of surprise.

"Git out!" "No snakes allowed!" "Go eat somebody else!" they hollered

"Hey!" he exclaimed hurtly, causing the children to scatter in fear towards the schoolhouse. All except a single girl mouse wearing a black and white dress and ribboned straw hat. "What was that for?"

"You're funny lookin'." she stated curtly, not breaking eye contact with him.

Adults nearby held their breaths, hoping that the green devil would show the small child some mercy. Luckily their prayer were answered when the two started a childish back and forth argument about their appearances.

"Oh yeah? Well, you're funny looking too."

"That's a funny lookin' shirt."

"That's a funny looking dress."

"You have funny lookin' eyes."

"You have a funny looking FACE!" the snake exclaimed triumphantly, a goofy smirk on adorning his face.

The mouse, unimpressed by his argument, walked away with a "You're a stranger. Strangers don't last long here."

The python looked closely at the more brave townsfolk, walking out in the open as if to dare the snake to strike or threaten them. He did a small impressions of them, trying in vain to mimic limb movements and spitting.

His attention was then caught by the raucous noise of chatter and piano music coming from inside what was obviously a tavern or saloon.

Slithering past the wooden swing doors, the music and talk stopped abruptly. The entirety of the bar had their eyes on him as if an extra terrestrial or divine life form had walked in. Only the squeak of a rust ceiling fan broke the unnerving silence.

Moving slowly up to the bar, the snake saw many with what could easily be a mixture of fear and boredom on their faces. Some stepped back till they reached the walls and some continued slurping a strange amber liquid from cloudy shot-glasses.

Situated between an intoxicated rabbit and an unimpressed bobcat, the python gestured to the toad barkeep. "May I have a glass of water?"

Suddenly the bar erupted in braying laughter, as if such a statement was near blasphemous. The drunken rabbit to his right mumbled "Make it a double!" before clonking back down to his place on the stained wood. The noise died down as quickly as it had started, allowing for the nervous silence to rule again.

"Cactus juice." the barkeep grumbled, spitting on the counter top and wiping away a stain. "That's what we got." He slid an oddly spiked green bottle down to the serpent, who upon catching it with the tip of his tail wince in pain.

Trying to dislodge the bottle from his soft scales, the serpent saw as a drop fell onto the bar, causing a thirsty fly to drink and promptly die upon consumption. Chuckling wearily, he took a large ill-advised gulp. He gave a twitchy jerk as the sharp bitterness burnt is throat and made his left eye spasm.

"Hey there fruit cup." the small finger of an old mouse jabbed at his back, the other patrons looking on with cautiousness. "You're a long ways from home ain't cha? Who exactly are you?"

The python looked blankly at the dirty mirror. So many time back in his old life as a pet did he have to prove what kind of character he was, all just to be accepted by humans. Perhaps the same tactic would work with these primitive screwballs. But best he keep quite for now.

"Wassa matter? You missin' your mommy's mangos?"

That about tears it.

"Maybe I am. But not as much as your daddy's COOKING!" he flared up, showing off his non-existent fangs. The bar patrons jumped back, holding their poker cards like protective shields in front of their faces.

The mouse stood down with a bruised pride, stuttering "Wh-where did you say you where from?"

"Me? I'm from the west. Out there beyond the horizon, past the sunset. The far west." the snake lowered his voice into a near purr, revelling in how the people were mesmerised by his very tone of voice.

"Yeah, that's right, hombres. The place I come from, we kill a man before breakfast just to work up an appetite. Then we salt 'im, then we pepper 'im, then we braise 'im in clarified butter..." grabbing the hat off a gopher he continued to spin his great big ball of yarn. "And then – we **eat** him."

"Ya eat 'em?"

"THAT'S WHAT I **SAID**!" the python bellowed so that the entire bar shook with anticipation. Pacing around the tightly packed groups of townsfolk and poking at a deck of cards with his head hell high and his voice held low.

"Hell, I've seen things'll make a grown man lose control of his glandular functions! You spend three days in a horse carcass living off your own juices - it'll change a man. Oh yeah." the deck of cards spluttered out of the grip of his tail, showering the players in spades and clubs. "Got a few extra aces in this deck, gents - just the way I like it."

Turning back to the mouse that triggered his tale he gestured for the barkeep to pour him another drink, not really minding the taste any the moment."So no, my hairsome little rodent friend, I am _not_ from around these parts. You might say I'm from everywhere there's trouble brewin' and hell waitin' to be raised. You could say I'm what hell's already raised up." Taking extreme care with the delivery of his self proclaimed title he half-hissed half-purred. "_Name's... __**Rango**__._"

Gasps of awe and wonder filled the bar, a few younger patrons looking at the newly dubbed Rango as of he was a godly figure.

"Hey! Ain't you the feller that killed them Jenkins Brothers?" an older bobcat asked.

Well no use in denying them anything now is there? "Uh-huh. Killed them with _**one**_ bullet. Don't get no deader."

The unimpressed bobcat to his left finally lifted his head to asked disbelievingly. "All _seven_ of 'em?"

Rango gulped down the last of his shot, realising what a pickle he had just gotten himself into. Nervously he confirmed "That's right all seven."

"Exactly how you do that, Mister Rango?" a young horned toad asked as a child would a teacher.

Mentally writing a plausible tale he turned to the gathered crowd. "You know, I'm glad you asked me that. And I'll be happy to tell you how, but your all gonna have to listen up! Because this is where it gets... _complicated_."

This was going to be a _very_ long explanation.

**/X\**

Mayor Tortoise John had big plans for the dusty, barren wasteland outside his window. After he gazed upon a city of such a mighty caliber that he desired to replicate it within his homestead. Of course there is the matter of the ultra traditionalist towns people to deal with.

It wasn't that they weren't good workers or decent neighbours, but the matter was that they had their heads too far deep in the sand of their long dead crops.

He had been running the town dry for years, restricting and lessening the amount of water flowing from the spigot in the town's square. Wonderful creatures those humans are. Building such divine objects and systems to carry and contain the life blood of the desert, and now with the discovery of an "off" button barely a few miles away, he could manipulate it anyway he wanted.

Soon the whole town will be packing up and moving out, but the wait was unbearable. He needed a nice "kick" to get everything up and running.

The quiet screeching of children got his attention, yelling about how a "snake got in!". Now that couldn't have been old dear Jacob now could it? Poor outdated outlaw was a coward when it came to the hawk (or Missus Metalbeak as he called her) and she was most certainly on patrol today, keeping both him and vagrants out of the town. Looking out over his balcony he could confirm that it was not Jake but something even stranger.

A fairly large green snake was slithering lethargically towards town. It's bands of dark and neon green scales making it stand out like a beacon against the yellow sand. The towns people were cautiously closing their windows and staying under the awnings of store fronts, hoping that what ever kind of snake it was, it would show mercy.

Now Tortoise John was a stickler for plans and protocol. Normally he would call William and his gang of misfits to rough up an outsider, but this exotic serpent could help him get the push his plan needed. Of course if it wasn't cooperative it would find itself drowned at the bottom of a mine shaft.

Smiling with a cunning glint in his eye, the Mayor watched as the snake engaged in conversation with a small child before entering the saloon adjacent to the town hall. Finding this man's (or woman's – it would be misogynistic to assume it was solely a man) price would be easy seeing how it had only been here for ten seconds and had already dove for the call of liquor.

"Now then. Things just got a little more interesting around here."


	4. Chapter 4

**/X\ Be warned. A lot of canon divergence in this AU. Please leave a review!**

"...bullet ricochets off the shovel back to Number 3 and THATS when the roof caved in! Igniting the thermos of pure-grain alcohol, leavin' nothing but a charcoal statue and a high-pitched squeal! _Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..._"

The python sure hoped that his tale was believable enough. The reference for a bullet grazing and bouncing off metal surfaces was quickly drying out. He was atop a fairly large round table, improvising it as a stage for his boastful fabrication.

The patrons of the saloon were staring up at him with utmost pride and fearful adoration.

"Hold on there. That only six! What happened with Number 7?" an ornately dressed owl inquired, raising a feather and an eyebrow in suspicion. The bar started a small chatter of confusion, occasionally throwing a question or two about the youngest Jenkins brother.

"Nu-number 7?" Rango almost felt his story cave-in on himself, he was so careful not to leave any plot holes or unresolved fates in his stories and now he must settle for a mundane solution. "Hell, he died of infection."

Sparing only a second of thought before accepting the anti-climatic ending, the bar exploded into cheers and whoops of praise.

"Seven men!" "One Bullet!" "Drinks all around!"

It felt amazing. The green snake was lifted off the table by a crowd of the patrons, sliding him in front of the bar counter for a few free rounds of cactus juice. All were clapping him on the back and conversing erratically about his supposed exploits.

The sound of guns silenced the bar almost instantly.

"Dance for me sod buster!" a British-accented gila monster had shuffled into the bar, followed by three cronies as they shot at the feet of an elderly farmer.

The whoops of praise that had moments before filled the bar, were replaced by the braying insults and threats of four degenerative mooks. Tossing the poor old timer out on his rear with the promise of cutting off his face, the overweight gila (obviously the "leader" of this aggressive group) turned to sneer at the bar patrons.

"What are you all gawpin' at?" he asked with a daring growl in his voice. As the bar separated to give the gunslinger a clear path to the booze, it accidentally left their newly acquired luminary defenceless.

Giving a confused ugly sneer at the sight of bright green and red. "Bad Bill" as he was known around town, strutted towards the misplaced serpent, pushing an over-enthusiastic horned toad away with a single arm movement towards his cronies.

The scales on Rango's back seemed to buckle and convulse as the heavy footsteps of the very-real gunfighter came closer and closer to his side. The sweet-sour breath of the other reptile had reached his nose before the footsteps came to a halt.

"The fuck is this?" the gila asked so _eloquently_, gesturing to the limbless, technicolour newcomer.

Rango narrowed his eyes. He thought that this would be a family production thank you very much. That type of language should not be tolerated at all on film or on set.

"You know who that it Bill?" the old mouse spoke up, his tone greatly transformed since his first encounter with the serpent. "That there is Rango."

"Yea-yeah! He ain't 'fraid of you! Ain't 'fraid of none of you." the childish horned toad piped, fumbling his words as the three other thugs grinned angrily at him.

"He killed them Jenkins brothers." "Done it with one bullet Bill." "All seven of 'em!"

The gila monster's eyes twitched with fury. He had wanted to rough those boys damn it. The long creature before him didn't even look strong enough to hold up a god damn glass let alone a gun. Sensing the fear in his freshly imprinted rival he lit a cigar and grumbled "Is that right?"

Staring dead on into the acid yellow eyes, Bill took a nice long drag of the cheap tobacco and blew it into the big shot's face.

Rango's eyes and lungs were on fire. The acrid smell and implosive sensation of the smoke had dug itself deep into his nostrils and sockets, forcing him to react in a not-so-stoic fashion by loudly coughing the thick cloud back up.

Thinking that this rude fellow had enough fun, the annoyed and nervous snake grabbed the cigar out of the thug's mouth with his needle-like fangs, watching as his face contorted in shock before swallowing it whole.

And lit.

There was that burning feeling again, only this time it had singed past his tongue and was currently extinguishing oh so slowly in his gullet. Tapping rapidly for the barkeep to pour him a well needed shot of drink, the gila monster was about to vocally explode from rage.

Then Rango drank the shot.

Later on, the many onlookers would describe how they feared that the idiotic snake was really a fire breathing green dragon sent to punish the likes of Bill for his wicked deeds.

Bad Bill's face was still as a rock when the flames hit him. He was still when the snake started thwacking him with a soaked rag. He even stood still as a wave of cactus juice reignited the flames and left nasty scorch marks on his scales.

But he was most definitely _**NOT**_ still when the loony had licked the end of the rag and mockingly dabbed at a stray ember on his nose. With a shit-eating grin the snake chirped in the most saccharine voice ever uttered "There. All better."

Now mind that this was from the perspective of those who were not our esteemed hero. The poor misplaced actor felt like dying and decomposing right there and then to avoid his embarrassment and the impending-

Oh Bill just slid a gun towards him. He was right, it's going to be an old fashioned _Fist Full of Dollars_ style stand off (Was it high noon? He'd have to check when they get outside). At least the beast wasn't going to take him on in a physical match, documentaries that his humans watched had told him many times that his current enemy had venomous saliva. He wondered briefly if venom could be used in a duel in this screwball western world.

Shoved unceremoniously outside with the gun tucked into the neck of his shirt. Rango desperately tried to remember what pushed him to act so rashly. Was it his annoyance at the reptile's lack of manners or was it that he was secretly hoping for this duel? A nice scene to solidify his status as a target locked gunslinger and bruise a boisterous jerk's ego.

The two (well five if you counted Bill's buddies) lined up at least twenty feet away from each other, the heavy heat bearing down and almost blinding them. The clock tower ticked out the end of another hour (what do you know – it actually isn't high noon, close enough to it though).

Rango used the tip of his tail to carefully unhook the weapon from his clothes, trying to figure out how exactly he was going to even hold the darn thing. He only did have one "hand" to work with. He started doing an experimental tap exercise on the revolver before he started to get the idea.

The opened cylinder spluttered bullets onto the ground, forcing the serpent to ask for a time out to regain his form.

The townsfolk watched fearfully from inside the saloon and shops, fearing that this handsome stranger was about to meet his death.

A few stories above the duelling sides, Mayor Tortoise John sipped at a tall glass of red wine, holding up a pair of opera glasses for the occasion, having been alerted by the eternally panicking Mr Merrimack. His meeting with Miss Beans could wait. If this serpentine blow hard couldn't dodge a bullet from old William's pudgy hands then they weren't worth having, if they did then Jacob may have found himself a partner in crime.

"All right. I'll give you one last chance to reconsider..." the snake rambled one how they should rethink their course of action, failing to notice when an avian shadow appeared behind him and made the the group of thugs run off in fear.

"Now that's what I'm talking about. Yeah. Listen up! Things are going to be a little different 'round here now that Rango's in town. Got some new rules."

The python seemed to parade himself down the street, still oblivious to how Missus Metalbeak bore down on him with her steely eyes, remembering how the boastful creature had nearly squeezed the life out of her. Now he was demanding _**service?**_

"I want my tail shined every morning, my coffee hot, Danish on the side. When I walk, don't look me in the eye, stay out of my peripheral vision..."

The townsfolk looked on in amazement.

"What's he doin'?" "What's he up to?"

"He ain't 'fraid of nobody. He be tellin' that bird what for!"

"...I take long strides and I don't want you hayseeds getting your bodily fluids on my scales!" He froze solid when his eyes fell on the hawk before him. He continued to speak, now only at a pace and volume that spelled out _**help**_ "COURSE there's no need for violence long as we stick together, work as a team. So now I want y'all to come out now single file while I take a brief intermission!"

As his voice rose to a near screeching pitch, he ducked behind an outhouse, hoping that at least someone had the gall to come out and help him. The hawk was unimpressed, slicing the bottle-shaped structure diagonally with her supernaturally sharp claws.

Looking up what was most likely his reaper, Rango had to thank the gopher that ran into the middle of the street for his hat. Barely a second to spare, the snake bolted into the empty narrows of the town, his tail hooking onto the end of a role of toilet paper.

The chase was both the most accelerating and horrifying moment of Rango's life.

Her body was so destructive, so poorly handled on land. His slick and smooth movements could out run her but his quickly tiring body could not.

The townsfolk cheering him on was the own thing on his mind right now. They saw the two titans run way/after each other in a circle, assuming that the python was the chaser. If he lived to tell this tale in other western saloon, he'll go down as a lying survivor. If he were to die at the talons of this winged Banshee then he would go down as a legend only known for an hour of whimsical fabrication told inside a run-down bar.

When ever she got close enough, she dug her claws and tore with her silver mouth into his soft green scales. Right near the dried up water tower in the town's square did Rango truly see the level of damage she had done. Long, deep drags along his sides, face and belly would leave nick, cuts and gashes that would never truly heal. Scars that would terrify a war doctor. That is if she hadn't pierced any vital organs or muscles in his tube-like body.

Nuts to that.

The mid-point of his body was thrown onto Metalbeak's back, forcing her to lower herself to the ground. Wiping out his gun, Rango tried to aim one of his six shots at her leg, only for it to bounce off her beak, off a horse shoe and then cutting through one of the ropes holding up the monolith above them.

The moaning creak was heard only after the water tower fell. The hawk stared at it dumbly as tonnes of brass and dirt crushed her bones and suffocated her lungs.

Rango felt like passing out. He'd just killed someone. A giant avian predator that wanted him dead but a person no less.

The towns folk gathered around the corpse, gasping and fainting at the sight of it. Buford, the barkeep was the only one to speak up.

"He killed that thing! What do you think Doc?"

An old, possibly hungover rabbit checked the hawk's pulse before declaring. "This hawk...is dead."

"Shoot. I say we cook that right up." Priscilla jabbed at the food of the beast with a stick, the thought of a big communal cook out on her mind.

"He did it with one bullet!" exclaimed Spoons, inspecting the nearly full chamber of the revolver.

"Just like you said!"

"Let's hear it for Rango!" the crowd began to cheer, singing their praises in a mantra.

Ruby red blood was trickling out onto the sand but it wasn't the hawk.

Doc and an indifferent crow were the first to notice anything wrong, both springing into action.

"Clear back friends, this serpent is injured!" the old rabbit slurred, gesturing for the others to help him pick up his newest patient. The Native American corvid parted the crowd to the sides of the road, clearing the way for the hurt hero.

Rango hoped that if he did go down like this, that at least he'd be remembered for taking that feathered devil with him.

The Mayor chuckled warmly. Never in this day and age has he ever seen such an act of ferocity and use of tactics. The "Rango" had simply been here for little under an hour and has already killed one of his strongest assets.

Rango will make a good addition to his little "Destruction Team". Needs all the help it can get really.

Perhaps he should call up old Jacob. The lonesome pit viper might just fall head over tail for the exotic newcomer.


	5. Chapter 5

The python's eyes were hazy.

The hawk had most surely gotten him and now he was in heaven. Or was he? It seemed to be nothing but a large unbroken salt flat. Perhaps it was purgatory seeing how he lied about his entire identity and existence before he kicked the bucket.

The sight of a white golf cart, loaded with awards caught his attention. He remembered the words of wisdom given to him by the bisected armadillo from yesterday.

"_He rides an alabaster carriage with golden guardians to protect him."_

Rango would have to remember that the miniature inhabitants of Dirt were a mighty superstitious bunch that tended to misinterpret human objects.

"Surprising to see you all the way out here so early." the pronounced husky voice of the humanoid figure stated, picking up metal pieces poking through the surface of the sand. "Your death ain't supposed to be for a real long time."

"Is this heaven?" the snake asked, unable to keep it down much longer. He wonder if the being standing before him was a fellow ghost, an apparition, an angel, or even a strange long forgotten god. How exactly would he even know if they were a divine being?

"If it were, we'd be eatin' poptarts with Kim Novak."

Definitely a divine being.

The Spirit rummaged through his poncho to find a small black box. Going down onto his knees, he opened it and revealed it's heavily scratched and dusty interior mirror.

"What can you see stranger? Do you see a hero? A villain? A stage hand that isn't getting enough pay?"

Rango looked closely at his reflection, it was _him_ as expected except he was in a type of western garb, and adorned with a type of medal on his chest. It seemed quite pleasant, although for some strange reason, his reflected counterpart seemed to be paranoid, his eyes and head constantly darting around him as if he was being hunted by an invisible threat.

"Is that me from the future?"

The Spirit quickly closed the box and answered with. "Nah. It's what people are going to remember you as. An amazingly twitchy and perhaps overly distant stranger, who always though there was someone out to get him for his lie." he reopened the box, this time the dust and scratches from the mirror were gone, revealing a different counterpart.

This time the mirror was absolutely filthy, cracked and caked with a type of barnacle-like grime. The reflection was now a much more intimidating python. His clothes were prim, clean and overly opulent for the town of Dirt. He was completely unblemished, from his scales to his fangs. This, didn't look like Rango at all. His clothes were gaudy, his eyes were dull, and that fanged smile hid too much guilt to be genuine.

"This fellow is the one I'd advise you to stay away from." The Spirit drawled, near fearful look in his squinted watery grey eyes. "He did nothing but lie to good people, justifying his actions with the excuse that he was making a good story."

With the apparition doing another shut and open action with the box, the snake feared that his third form would be something horrifyingly bad. He was pleasantly surprised to see that the mirror was now wiped clean with a few smudges gained from what appeared to be years of ownership.

This reflection was covered with long deep scars. A worn vest and Sheriff badge was evidence of his experienced life. A great big grin lit up image's face as he tapped from within the mirrored surface and gave a friendly wave to the confused and (likely dead) corporeal python.

"This fellow didn't have any lies to cover. Now he's world weary, he's been exposed to some very serious situations, but he's happy. He's got the loyalty and trust of others on his side." The Spirit closed the box one last time, locking it with a key before placing it back underneath his cape-like poncho. "Only one of these fellows can exist at a time. But all have an equal possibility."

"What can I do to determine which one I am?" Rango looked up at the godly figure in awe. He had no angel wings or halo to show off his power or wisdom, just a poncho and a hat to keep sandy winds off of him. "How do I know which one I'm gonna be?"

The Spirit walked over to his "alabaster carriage" and sat down at the wheel, leaving with one last shred of advice. "You didn't notice the theme of honesty vs lies I had going there didn't ya? Dig yourself out of this mess now or it'll bury you."

The golf cart drove off, leaving a cloud of white smoke in it's path.

Rango stood there contemplatively. Then an unrelated thought came to mind and he began to yell after the cart.

"Then how the heck do I get out of here? I'm kinda in the middle of an extraterrestrial salt flat at the moment! Couldn't you've given me a lift or something?"

**/X\**

Doc tapped his watch boredly. The snake should be up by now or else he's going to be a goner. That nice Native feller (Wounded Bird was it?) was helping him with the clean up.

His patient was awfully long and had a lot of stitch-worthy cuts on him. He'd have to apologize to Mrs Rosie for using up all her red thread. The scaly skin wasn't helping matters none, it was like repairing a giant green shoe.

"AAAAaaah!" the snake suddenly bellowed out, feeling the pinpricks of a needle going into his side. Rango stared at himself, covered in bright red stitches as if he was the perverse form of doll. His shirt was crudely tossed into a waste bucket nearby, having been cut open to get to his wounds.

He'd have to get some new duds to replace it.

"Your awake." the stoic crow stated clearly, keeping perfect concentration on his stitch work. He briefly looked up at Rango and said. "Thought you were dead. Cuts not too bad. Not too good either."

"Are you using some kind of Native American charm to heal me?" the snake asked, always being enraptured by Native rituals seen in the old west films, plus it could explain the stranger he saw in his dream. His expectations were quickly shattered when the corvid replied.

"Red thread cheaper. Doc's getting antiseptic." Wounded Bird had heard all the stereotypes before, at least this person isn't being negative about it. Some wanders in the past have outright refused to trade with the town just because he was there. Jokes on them, they end up hawk food.

Doc staggered back with a new bottle of liquid and a fresh role of bandage, having drained two bottles and one role already. He squinted at the now awake serpent with bloodshot eyes before declaring. "Yep, you're alive. A bit sewn up, but alive."

As the rabbit dabbed the bubbling antiseptic onto exposed cuts, Rango felt like biting some things head off, thankfully settling for his hat which was hanging off the edge of the improvised "bed". Now that he could look a bit better at his surroundings, he was quick to notice that Doc's wooden office was really big, a lot of empty space with a pile of mattresses on the far wall.

"Thank god for this human building or else we couldn't work on the bigger fellers." Doc caught the snake's confusion and continued to dab and bandage the wounds whilst explaining. "Lots of purpose places used to belong to humans. Needed it here ever since a nasty cholera outbreak twenty odd years ago. Needed space for all the patients."

"Makes a lot of sense. I thought the town was made out of just human objects, not buildings."

"Appears like that yes. Most human buildings got torn apart for material, others were bought by rich fat cats from Vegas and renovated into fifty story mansions. For me, I got the roof renovated to be a wee bit lower. Doubt were gonna have any actual humans any time soon."

The needle stopped hurting after one or two inches of thread. Now that he was almost completely back together, the python was able to admire how relatively unscathed he actually was. The cuts and gashes would retreat into neat little scars and nicks on his scales, proof of what he did merely...what a minute how long has he been out for? Glancing up at a clock on the west wall, he could see that a short half hour had past, ticking neatly at 11:34.

As Wounded Bird clipped the end of the last stitch, he sniffed at the air and stated with a solemn look on his face. "People in waiting room. Not sick. Have presents."

"Well I best shoo them out. He's fixed up but-"

"And blueberry pie."

"I'll send right them in!" with that the sweet toothed physician hopped away, opening up the doors to the room. "He's all right folks, just no crowding 'round him ya hear?"

The large group of animals pushed forward, bearing gifts of thanks and partial guilt. Some had alcohol (Buford was carrying quite a large case of cactus juice alone), others had flowers (children mostly) and others presented their beautifully baked goods and cooked lunches. All there to support and say thanks to Rango for taking down the hawk.

It made him feel like a complete scumbag.

"That was amazing!" "If there's anything we could do to say thanks!" "Are you gonna sign up for Sheriff?" The yells and questions just kept ringing out, to a nearly deafening volume.

Rango thought back to The Spirit. In all of his reflections, only one had an actual Sheriff's badge on him. The honest one.

But the looks on these folks face whenever he said or did something told him that they needed all the fantastical heroes they can get.

The crowd gave grumbles of contentment, with the odd fellow passing a compliment to the serpentine saviour. Rango knew that they wouldn't really trust him all that much after this, he wouldn't blame them.

Doc was able to herd them out under the justification of "bed rest", nabbing a slice of a gift pie for himself. He allowed the young mouse girl to stay behind to talk to the fellow, after all she couldn't really cause any harm while he was here right?

The only sounds at that moment was of the Doc eating desert, Wounded Bird unfolding a newspaper, and the click of Priscilla's school shoes as she straightened her posture.

"Mister Rango." she addressed him formally with fire in her eyes. "I want you to be Sheriff."

The room became completely still, a stray blueberry from Doc's pilfered pastry dropped onto the floor as the four contemplated the idea.

Rango lowered his head to her level and replied. "I think that's more of the town's decision little sister." he tried to put it gently to her. "And I don't think that they'd be all too happy with a big snake like me sticking around."

"I see no problem with it." Doc agreed with the schoolgirl through a mouthful of pie. "It'd be nice to have someone other than Jake slither through here."

"Jake?" the python asked not-so bravely, he just _knew_ this kind of character. The dreaded outlaw or thug harassing the peaceful town of screwball citizens.

"He means Rattlesnake Jake, Mister Rango. He never usually comes to town, but he might come now." Priscilla pondered, remembering the outlaw as being a mighty titan of a criminal. "Can I have your hat when you die?"

"Bird dead. Rattlesnake comes." the crow stated bluntly, turning the page of his paper. "Dangerous. Three previous Sheriffs killed."

"Lucky for you though, pretty much anybody he guns down be a liar or a fink." the rabbit offhandedly remarked, staring at a slightly burnt piece of crust.

Rango felt like melting at that point. What had he just gotten himself into? Either he tells the truth and be kicked out on his sewn up posterior or he continues lying and come face to face with an unusually ethical villain.

"Ca-can I just say something before I get in too deep?" such an unfamiliar, soft voice emerged from the snake, causing the other three to listen in with concern. "I'm not being all too honest with you folk. It's my stupid lie that's gotten me into this sorry state. I just like making a story."

The three other animals listened unblinkingly. Doc and Wounded Bird abandoning their pie and paper respectively.

"I fabricated my encounter with those seven brothers. Before little under half an hour ago, I've never even raised my tail to somebody let alone held a firearm in all my life. I'll understand if y'all want me out of here." the serpent looked down sadly at the floor, expecting a barrage of insults and mistreatment.

Priscilla put her paw on his neck (substituting for a shoulder) and said sweetly. "Don't care. You gut busted the hawk. That makes you an okay feller to me."

"You know zero about west. Yet you managed to kill hawk?" Wounded Bird asked, looking a little bit more impressed than usual.

"Uh...Yeah. I've known larger, more foul mouthed birds in my lifetime." the python recalled a pair of grey parrots he used to share an owner with. They swore so much.

"Looks like you got yourself into a bit of a pickle there." the doctor looked at his watch boredly, tapping it to see if it hadn't died down. "But at least you told somebody, especially a doctor like me. Some fellers let their lies eat them alive, leaves them vulnerable to mental injuries."

"You mean like telepaths reading your mind?" Priscilla asked innocently, not realising the meaning of the term.

"Yep. And psychics controlling your body to make you do stupid things like five finger fillet or drink bad whiskey." Doc took a swing of his flask, pleasing the child's curiosity.

"You want to be Sheriff?" the corvid raised an eyebrow to the serpent, causing the idea to bounce around in Rango's head once more.

"Well, it's uh not that easy I'll bet. I mean you'd need an extensive history of law work and references from your past careers and-"

Bad Bill burst into the room without his gang of servile cronies. "Oi! Pansy!" he yelled aggressively to the snake, causing everyone in the room to tense up. "Mayor wants a look at ya. Something 'bout some shitty lawman job or something."

Rango slithered slowly out of his bed, whispering to his comrades "I stand corrected."

**/X\ Hope the scene with the Spirit of the West wasn't too bizarre or unnecessary. Major canon divergence in this chapter with Rango owning up to his lie with a select few. Please leave a review!**


	6. Chapter 6

Rango was standing there in the Mayor's waiting room for the past ten minutes. The tick of the wall clock was such an unbearable rhythmic drone that he found himself imagining the possible conversations he would have with the mayor. Would it be pleasant? Will the Mayor make him Sheriff? Will he have to think up insults and comebacks just in case the Mayor was derogatory towards him?

He examined the paraphernalia on the walls behind him. Two large portraits of the same tortoise sat above the waiting bench, the one on the left holding an bow-and-arrow while the right held a shotgun. Rango felt that they were aimed at him. A newspaper clipping detailed a freak golfing/thunderstorm accident which left the Mayor paralysed from the waist down, right next to a displays of golf balls and shiny metal clubs. This Mayor had obviously spent most of his life playing games then running the town.

Experimentally picking up a club, the snake mimed the actions of putting, making a whistling noise with his mouth. The fox secretary flipped the pages of her fashion magazine, hiding an amused smirk.

"I came here to save my land, NOT sell it!" the sound of Miss Bean's voice startled the serpent into knocking over the display of golf balls, scattering them across the floor.

The furious iguana was followed by an exasperated squirrel, assuring her that they could make a better deal before tripping on a stray golf ball. Beans gave a confused look towards Rango as he waved nervously to her, her eyes bearing down on him like daggers.

The secretary raised an eyebrow as the two exited the hall, stating with a low voice as she took a puff of her cigarette "The Mayor will see you now."

Rango slithered into the fairly large office, intimidated by the high ceiling and stained-glass windows. An old tortoise was dripping water into a miniature terrarium, gazing at the shifting grains of sand.

"Water, young Rango. Water. Without it, there's only death and decay. But with water, there's life." he continued too stare as young bugs began to crawl to the surface for a drink. "Look at them, so desperate for it they'd follow it anywhere. That's the immutable law of the desert. Control the water and you control everything."

Rango felt uneasy, the tortoise had obviously rehearsed this speech before, perhaps to another Sheriff in the past.

He stared as the wheelchair bound mayor swivelled around and unlocked a drawer behind his desk. "This is from my private stock, vintage rainwater from the Great Deluge." he poured a crystal clear fluid as if it were high-quality wine into glass cups for his guest, the serpent staring at the water with the look of great thirst. "Oh no, not Noah's Deluge. Good heavens, I'm not that old."

Rango had to laugh at the little joke there, mumbling "I guess power has it's privileges."

Mayor Tortoise John looked up at the snake with recognition, he was still unable to determine the newcomer's gender even by voice but at least he knew that they weren't a dummy like his bodyguards. "You make a good point youngster. But with privilege comes responsibility."

"Um excuse me..." Rango trailed off as the Mayor wheeled over to a shelf on the other side of the room, leaving him with an empty glass.

"Hell. I was Mayor here before there was a Dirt! And I maybe just a sentimental old turtle, but I think there's a future for this town. And I hope you'll be part of it." grabbing the box of past Sheriff badges, the Mayor listened as the snake knocked over the bottle of water with their tail. He'd get a new one tomorrow. Raising his full glass he toasted "To Dirt!"

"To Dirt." Rango toasted weakly, guilty over the broken bottle. Being led out onto a balcony, he was able to see he inhabitants of Dirt as they went through their daily lives.

"You see them, young Rango? All my friends and neighbours?" the tortoise's voice lowered to an almost genuinely sad tone. "It's a hard life here. Very hard. Do you know how they make it through everyday? They believe. They believe it's all going to be better. They believe that the water will come. They believe against all odds and all evidence that tomorrow will be better than today".

The serpent stared as the strangely familiar black box was opened to reveal a collection of old and worn Sheriff badges. There's no going back now.

"People have to believe in something. Right now they believe in you." the Mayor chose a silver star and pushed towards the serpent. "Pick it up young Rango, your destiny awaits."

Rango hooked the end of his tail around the badge and stared at it blankly. Is this honestly how they recruited law enforcement? Giving them a heart-aching speech and a badge without prior knowledge of them?

"People have to believe in something." the turtle nearly growled, a tone that didn't go unnoticed by the snake.

Rango was most certainly uneasy, this Mayor was too much of an old-southern-gentleman to be a heroic character. His crisp white clothes and big office told the snake that he was most certainly doing better than his own towns people. Even so, he allowed himself to be escorted out by Miss Angélique so that she could get him fitted for a proper Sheriff's outfit. He'd have to investigate the old reptile later.

As the doors to his office closed shut, Mayor Tortoise John turned to his lackeys and gave a thumbs up. "Is everything ready?"

"Yeah, but he might be a problem." Bad Bill grumbled, referring to the newly crowned Sheriff. The gila monster was still a bit sore from having fire breathed on him.

"They're not a problem William. They're a solution."

"Would you stop using 'they', I know he's a bloke." the thug got angry at his boss's constant over-politeness. Figured that the old bastard was too full of his own shit to even think about mislabelling someone.

"Truly? Well that's a slight relief. I thought we were going to have to deal with having juvenile rattlesnakes everywhere." the Mayor chuckled, thinking back to dear old Jacob, the hellfire spouting pit viper could use a mate. "Although that doesn't eliminate the threat."

Bad Bill rolled his eyes. So much like the boss to pair up his own hit-men.

**/X\**

Angélique owned the only clothing store (personally she preferred to call it a boudoir) in Dirt. She was accustomed to the many shapes and sizes of the townsfolk. Small, fat, wide, tall, male, and female. But she never had to work on a snake before.

Snakes never really wore or bought clothing as many felt no need for it, luckily all the "private parts" were well hidden within their bodies.

Mr Black, the tailor and undertaker of the town, took out a long measuring tape to get the new Sheriff's size. He made sure not to accidentally open up a stitch already on the customer and to take his coffin size (he has always been good at multitasking).

As Rango and the secretary conversed about what kind of materials and accessories that they could add to his new wardrobe, a small crowd started gathering. The women came over to give advice on colours, the men followed the women and gave advice on work-practical materials, Doc came to remind Rango to come back to the office everyday to change bandages, and Mr Merrimack told Miss Beans to go find the new Sheriff.

Pushing past the crowd, the young rancher cast her eyes upon the snake being fitted into red underclothes, being inspected by her old...rival "Mr Rango I need to-"

"Hey Beans! I'm getting fitted for new duds! Got a ten-gallon hat marked down from fifteen." the snake was obviously more interested in his reflection at the moment.

"That's nice." she replied curtly, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

"Have you met Angélique?"

"Hello **Beans**." the fox spit venomously, not forgetting their old scuffle.

"Hello Angélique."

"Tart."

"Floozy."

"Trollop."

Rango stared back and forth at them, feeling mighty awkward. Were these two enemies? Competitive or romantic rivals? Or old lovers? That last one would be a perfect twist to their presumed story.

Still on edge from his meeting with the Mayor, the snake's first reaction to a sudden poke in his back was to flip around and ready his gun. Only for his supposed attacker to be a seven year old.

"I was just thinkin' uh." the child mumbled, holding out a pad of paper.

An autograph? Well Rango wasn't really sure if he even knew how to read very well let alone write (capital lettered words were the ones he could manage). Still how could he refuse the wishes of a kid?

"Uh Sheriff." Beans tried to speak up.

"You want the ol' John Hancock do ya?" he took a pen into his mouth and sloppily wrote his name in large blocky letters on the pad and on a book offered to him by the boy's mother, who was aggressively trying to talk to him about morals.

"Sheriff?"

"You know Beans, I bet you clean up real nice if you put a little effort into it."

"What?" she asked rhetorically, shocked that he'd insult her looks when he's cut up and covered in red twine.

"Now, remember son. Stay in school, eat your veggies, burn everything but Shakespeare." he said passing back the pad as the child inquired on who Shakespeare was.

"SHERIFF RANGO!" Beans had lost all patience with the grandiose serpent and screeched at the top of her voice, causing him to freeze up in fear "If that's you're real name. I am trying to save my daddy's ranch, which is on the verge of an agricultural meltdown while you're playin' patty-cake with this here trol-"

She froze up as her voice got more and more desperate. Angélique strutted over to her paralysed form and placed a fruit bowl on the top of her head.

"Pity. Such a drab little thing" she purred, stroking her plush tail.

"Why does she do that?" he asked lowly to the folks in the crowd.

"Survival reflex." the strange-looking old bird named Furgus explained.

Doc took a swig of his flask and slurred "Her switch is just broken."

"Well that's inconvenient." Rango shrugged, wondering if it was only in social situations did she feel threatened enough to freeze.

"-it's NOT a rash it is a birthmark!" she suddenly yelled, breaking out of her frozen state and startling the crowded room. A stray apple fell off the basket on her head and she sighed "I did it again didn't I?"

"Did what?" the snake asked innocently adjusting his new hat.

"Lemme ask you. Did anyone tell him what happened to our last Sheriff?" she took a mocking bite of an apple, gesturing towards Mr Black hammering together a very long coffin with a smile on his face.

Despite being disturbed that the townsfolk expected him to die soon, Rango calmly retorted "Yes I was informed of the occupational hazard." Turning to the spider he offered "Also Mr Black? Wouldn't it save material to make a circular coffin? I can coil you know."

Mr Black replied by sighing and tearing the long coffin apart with his many limbs, his geared glasses whirling. Rango swore that the top-hat wearing spider had an evil steampunk laboratory somewhere beneath the town.

The loud _dong_ of the clock tower seemed to put the townsfolk in a type of hypnosis. Instantly people started spilling out onto the streets, grabbing an assortment of glass or metal containers while getting into two long lines in the centre of the road.

The snake watched on confusedly as an old country song played over an intercom, preaching the goodness of _"sweet water"_ as the the practitioners bobbed up and down with movement none to similar to a square dance. Then for some strange reason the climax of the song had them punching each other.

The crowd continued to march towards a monolithic spout coming out of the ground. Going by the near religious worship of water, he figured that it had some folkloric and practical significance. Squeezing between Priscilla and Wounded Bird, he whispered "This is heck of a hoe-down you got goin'. Still workin' out those steps. So, is this considered normal civic behaviour?"

"We're getting water. It happens every Wednesday just like clockwork." the mouse primly stated, holding a jug close to her chest.

The crow behind Rango was holding a simple green bottle and continued with "Water scarce. People pray to pipes and clouds."

Now this was just getting scary, not just because he could see the gravestone of previous sheriffs in the bone orchard nearby. _"Let's break it down"_ Rango monologued in his head _"Water is a precious commodity. It's sources are prayed to like gods. But the Mayor offered me a nice tall glass back in the office. Interesting."_

A raised stage was wheeled over to the main valve, the Mayor in his gentile glory held a large microphone besides his secretary and spoke to the crowd.

"My fellow Dirtonians. It's seems that the heavens have been grateful to us, to send such a selfless saviour." he gestured to Rango, who had no problem with standing out in a crowd. Beckoning him to come forward to take the first drops of water, standing confused underneath the open spigot he felt he himself was having a religious epiphany. "Risking his very life for that of the town against that meddlesome hawk. It is a honour to have him here today as our newly-crowned Sheriff for our weekly service. Acolytes, prepare the mighty spigot!"

A pair of hazmat suited creatures appeared, holding the turn wheel for the structure, it's placement reminding Rango of a scene from cosmic horror story.

"My friends it is the time of unity!"

"HALLELUJAH!" the crowd sounded off. The snake almost put his head to the ground, trying to block out the thunderous noise.

"It is the time of peace!"

"HALLELUJAH!" as the tap was being turned by the "acolytes", a great big gurgling noise was heard from above the Sheriff.

"It is the time of **HYDRATION!**"

"HALLELUJAH!"

The now hollow gurgling pre-dating the great flow of water had Rango's heart thumping and mind racing. It was only until now did he realise how _thirsty_ he was. Denied a drink for an entire day and a half would normally turn a person's blood into black sludge, but then again he is a reptile.

A big wet plop of mud fell on his snout.

The loud echoing gasps of the townsfolk went unheard by the snake he was still recovering from such a teasing anti-climatic scene.

"Noooooooooo!" "It's him! It's the newcomer!" "Burn him, he's a witch!"

The accusations of witchcraft died down as the Mayor took the reins of attention with another speech. "My friends! My friends! Temper your frustrations. Times will be tough from now on. Sacrifices will have to be made. But if I can help in any way, please know that my door is always-"

"HOLD IT!" Beans bellowed out, pushing through the crowd. "Now this whole thing stinks three ways to Sunday! First the banks run dry, and now this here spigot!"

"The bank's run dry?" "What she talkin' about?" "She says there's no water in the bank!"

Another collective gasp told Rango that this turbulent first day hadn't ended.

**/X\All right, the Mayor is a shipper and Rango is suspicious. Please leave a review and tell which path you think the story should go down.**


	7. Chapter 7

The commotion at the bank was immense.

The very moment that Beans revealed the status of the water reserve, people ran over to the bank and began rioting. Mr Merrimack and his teller were desperately trying to calm the situation as glass bottles were being thrown at them and the iron bars dividing the room were vigorously shaken.

The crazed yelling and destruction reminded the serpentine Sheriff of zombie films. Casually shooting a bullet skywards, Rango was able to quell the anger of the mob "That's enough civil disobedience in my town. Thank you very much."

"Oh! Sh-sheriff! Thank goodness you're-" the panicking squirrel was quickly pushed aside by the snake squeezing through the iron gate, a few irate townsfolk tailing him.

"Now let's take a gander at this here water problem- Mother of Mercy." the Sheriff froze and began shuddering at the sight of the stored water. To onlookers, he was reacting with fear at the dangerously low level of the reserve, when in actuality he was parched and desired to gulp down the entire contents then and there. He quickly recomposed himself and leaned against the plastic jug, addressing the crowd " All right, now I've been thinking' and I believe I figured somethin' out. You folks have a water problem!"

This seemed to go down well as the crowd calmly agreed through a low chatter. Sensing the opportunity for a drink, Rango grabbed a tin mug and poured himself some water. "Now, just pay attention everybody! I'm tryin' to make a point here. Let's say this fella here were to take a drink of water. Just one little drink. No harm, no foul. Right?"

He took a great big gulp, his mind racing from his body's return from dehydration. Pointing at the crowd he continued before taking another gulp "And you! Why you're just as dried up as a jackrabbit in July! So you belly on up and take you a double shot!" another mug of water made it's way down his throat, going back for more and more "St-stay with me here. What do you think happens next? Why we'd all be drinking and where would we be? And before you know it, there wouldn't be any more water! And then where would we be? "

Throwing one last mug onto his dried scales he revelled in the felling of rejuvenation as the townsfolk looked on in confusion. "Well we'd be thirsty! Real thirsty! Why we'd turn on each other like a bunch of animals!"

This seemed to fly over the heads of the townsfolk as the outsider remembered that they were all technically animals. Of course they'd just assumed that he meant a feral animal. 

"Now look here! We have got six days of water." leaning on the jug, the loud bubbles told him that the amount had shifted lower, causing the mob to give him a thousand-yard death glare. Shaking the snake stuttered "Fi...fi...we have got...five days...what...Well as long as we got water, we got ourselves a town."

"Sheriff Rango is right." the unmistakable sound of the Mayor's wheelchair altered him to the elder's arrival. "As long as we have this water, we have some hope."

Time to show what a good lawman he could be in front of the old fat suited southerner. Holding his head high, Rango boasted "And you can all take it from me. My one hundred percent full time employment from this moment on, will be to protect our precious, natural, resource. Ain't no one gonna tango with the Rango!"

Another series of bubbles told him that the water may have shifted another inch or so, but the crowd didn't care. What was originally a ravenous mob had turned into a hero's fanfare.

As he was about to follow Miss Angélique to finish up measurements for his clothes, Rango felt an old, scaly hand touch his back, making him shiver.

"Sheriff, may I have a word with you?" the Mayor asked, his voice dripping with a honey glaze. Not thinking much of it, the snake lowered his head and listened in to the other reptile. "I understand that you want to go full throttle into your new occupation but you do need another experienced gun by your side."

Damn, got him there. Evil southern-gentleman or not, he did have a point. If a random bank robber sneak up on him, how would he know if he could make a clear shot at him? "You do have a point Mayor. But I'd like to get a look at these aforementioned fellas first before I make a partnership with them."

Tortoise John chuckled warmly, holding his hand to his belly. "No worries on that Mister Rango. He's a very respectable and old colleague of mine. A snake just as yourself, I'm sure you'll both get along just fine."

At that nugget of information, Rango's mind went into a whirl. _"Doc and Wounded Bird said that Rattlesnake Jake is the only other snake around here. If __he's__ my partner, why would someone as influential as the Mayor associate with a well-known outlaw?_"

"I must warn you though." the Mayor's Texan drawl snapped the serpent out of his detective narration. The turtle smirked, believing that his new hitman was momentarily daydreaming about his soon-to-be-partner. "He's a loner type and can be a bit curious. So it's best that you don't ask him too many questions about himself, he lives for the mystery you see."

"I think I understand what you mean sir." He didn't. Then again he needed to get back to Angélique for his new duds. Detective work could begin when he has nice clothes and a hot meal.

Watching as the clueless serpent slithered out of the bank, the Mayor smiled deviously. The blow-hard hadn't an inkling of what was going on, yet outright agreed to the arrangement. Perhaps he was just either too trusting or too cowardly. If it were both then old Jacob could have an annoyance on his hands.

Calling William and his three stooges up to his office, the turtle wheeled towards his old golfing set, planning on a game later in the day. "Get me Rattlesnake Jake."

Bill became paralysed when he heard that cursed name. "But Jake's the Grim Reaper! He don't leave town without takin' a blooming soul!"

"I understand that and I don't intend on letting him leave town any time soon. If I let that Paris green lawman continue unguarded, he just may inspire rebellion within the towns people." testing the putter with his arm swing, he tucked it into his golf bag neatly. "Besides, if I keep Jake occupied, he might just let a little white lie go."

His boss's confident laughter did not do the least to calm Bad Bill down. Even he knew that even making a white lie around Jake was a sure fire way to getting a few new orifices in you. Legend has it that his first ever kill was as a teen when his adulterer teacher's wife gave him his first ever hit job. Of course that was just what people said right?

Now the real mission was to find where the bloody devil was even hiding.

**/X\**

A rattlesnake snored inside an abandoned boxcar. After chasing a trail of shed green scales and that scent from earlier, he realised that it came too close to town for his liking and declared the escaped pet to be shot and roasted by the ever-fearful folks of Dirt by now.

Now as he was resting away on a pile of gathered leaves and sticks, he heard a knock from outside his hiding spot. His eyes burst open as he rattled his gun, preparing to take in any threat on the outside. And if it were the newcomer he'd have a nice trophy.

Unfortunately it was just Bill.

"Ello Jake." the gila monster greeted nervously. "Been looking for your arse all over the place."

The sidewinder's face fell into a disappointed frown. Just once he'd like to kill an assassin or two and not just get an employment offer. "What does the old coot what this time?"

"New Sheriff. Out of towner. Ditzy little prick. Boss wants you to come to town and keep an eye on 'im while the plan's going under way." the thug explained bluntly, trying to flower his words would get him no where. Jake was as patient as a bull in heat and didn't take too kindly to dancing around a subject.

The outlaw spun the chambers of his tail boredly. He had been called in to kill the three previous Sheriffs and it was always either "he knows too much" or "making the people too confident". Of course Jake would never descend upon a person without getting at least some dirt on them (Amos was stealing from his neighbours, Smalls was an extreme adulterer, Davis "preferred kids portions"). If the mark was clean he'd give them a dry bite and tell them to get lost. He won't have his conscience smeared with innocent blood.

"Anything different from the last oh so hundred times?"

"It's a snake. Not like any kind I've ever seen before. I mean how the hell does a creature get green scales out here?"

Jake tasted the air thoughtfully. He did the math and concluded that the escaped pet had gone from town pariah to town Sheriff in little under a day. Decent timing he'd have to admit. "All right I'll go."

"Usually we give you the money before you say yes." Bill muttered questioningly, it was unlike the devil to accept a deal right there and then.

"I like a challenge." he stated bluntly, slithering out of his hovel. "How a snake survives living in a town patrolled by a hawk is my main concern."

Jake did not like that feathered beast, sure she only came about on certain times of the day but he wouldn't risk it. Perhaps the newcomer had roughed it up enough to make it think twice. Hissing lowly to himself, Jake slithered towards town with the quartet of idiots behind him.

Things just got a little more interesting.

**/X\**

The folks of Dirt stared in awe as their new Sheriff strutted about town in his new pitch black duds. With polished guns and a garish new hat he seemed to say "Look at me bandits! I have a new hat!"

It was sundown before he even started thinking about his arranged partner in (metaphorical) crime. Maybe Rattlesnake Jake was like a real old retired outlaw reforming for his sins, a middle-aged family man running from his dark past, or even a young Billy-the-Kid style gunslinger who didn't know any better. Any possibility he could probably work with.

"Oi! Pansy!" Bad Bill's oh so respectful tone burst his ear drums as he was strolling around near the edge of town. "Boss wants ya."

Rango was led hurriedly away from town, to the point that he feared that his was more of a set up than a arrangement. The image of the town was getting smaller and smaller as they ventured forth to meet the feared outlaw.

A mile or two away from town Jake met up with the Mayor behind a collection of rocks. The wheelchair bound turtle eagerly awaited the Sheriff's presence, rubbing his calloused hands together in response to the cold night air.

Jake was about to question the old turtle but the sound of crushed sand distracted him. Craning his neck out from behind the rocks he saw the basic outline of the Sheriff (too dark to make out features). Fairly long but not very big, unless one would count the layer of pudgy fat lining his middle. Easily mistaken for female if without prior knowledge of gender. 

"Got 'im boss." the gila monster informed the Mayor, the serpentine Sheriff following close behind him.

"Why do we have to do this all the way out here? I swear this feels more like a assassination than a meet-" the lawman slithered into view, exposing his green banded scales and large yellow eyes. He seemed to pause mid-sentence upon seeing the notorious outlaw. The criminal in front of him was a Western Diamondback and had a near omnipresent length to him. "...up."

Jake had to get a good look at this new lawman. He looked pretty darn good for a pet that was just thrown out into the real world.

The old bastard chuckled and exchanged between both snakes "Sheriff Rango this is Rattlesnake Jake, one of my closest associates. Jake this is Rango, our new esteemed Sheriff." With the looks these two were giving each other, the plan would go off without a hitch.

"Why the hell are you wearing clothes?"

"Why aren't you?"

Or not.

**/X\All right Jake and Rango have finally met. The Mayor still ships it. **


	8. Chapter 8

Well this wasn't what the mayor expected. He tapped the side of his face boredly as the two serpents argued whether or not a snake should adorn clothing.

"It makes no sense! We get our body heat from the sun!" Jake barked, all ready starting to hate the newcomer. He had lived on the prairie all his life, not once ever come across a snake wearing lengths of well made clothes (except maybe Philip, but nobody liked Philip).

"If it gets cold at night you have to bundle up. Plus it ain't no crime to look half decent." Rango replied, adamant that his co-worker was merely the animal equivalent of a nudist.

Now this has gone on far too long.

"**AHEM.**" the Mayor's false cough interrupted their debate, the snakes sending each other a look that said 'we'll get back to this later'. The older tortoise straightened himself up and explained in a less irritated tone. "Now Mr Rango, we discussed earlier how it would be best if you had an extra gun by your side for the duration of your post at the bank."

"Yes." the python confirmed, more so asking himself why he had even agreed in the first place.

Jake looked questionably at both the Sheriff and the Mayor, wondering briefly why the Mayor wouldn't have him knock the stubborn constrictor right there while there's no witnesses. He had little idea about why the Mayor's "water plan" was so crucial and classified, but the ornery reptile had killed lesser beings in cold blood merely for existing near his golf field.

"Jake. I would like you to keep a very close eye on our newest recruit. Don't let him go running off on his own. Bandits and beasts may be prowling tonight." the Mayor breathed in the nightly air deeply and sighed. "At least we can rest well knowing that the hawk problem has been taken care of."

"**What?**" the pit viper asked, his portal-like eyes magnifying immensely. He quickly laid his sight upon the Sheriff's body, before he'd only seen the nonsensical shirt and vest get up, now he saw bandages stained almost black from dried blood and bright red stitches marring his skin. Seemingly the only thing holding the Sheriff's physically together, if one were to pull the loosening thread just above the green snake's eye, he'd surely unravel completely and reveal to be nothing more than a doll filled with sand.

"Gave 'er a right beatin' he did." Bill faked admiration, more interested in letting the two serpents bugger off and pretend they didn't know anything. "Entire town can testify."

Picking up Jake's poorly hidden expression of shock, the Mayor directed the two towards the bank and offered "You explain to him the details of your victory Mr Rango. I understand that you're a fantastic _story-teller_." the last few words were said with a type of venom, mostly directed as a hint towards the outlaw.

The pit viper got it. At least half of what the patchwork Sheriff would say would be an exaggeration if not an outright lie. No creature of the desert would dare to lie to the feared Rattlesnake Jake. Best he keep his ears open for this hero's tale.

Rango's face lit up happily, almost dragging Jake behind him towards their post. The sidewinder gave the Mayor a look of 'I'm going to hate you for this' as he was led away by an over enthusiastic constrictor.

"How long til they start rowing about clothes again?" Bill asked mockingly, the two were so unevenly matched it was funny. Surely Jake will be driven mad within the week.

"Now William, please." the turtle held up his hand in a silencing gesture. "They are mature adults, and Jacob knows that the plan is far to fragile to be broken over a juvenile argument."

Dialogue in the distance told them otherwise.

"All you need is a hat!"

"And wear nothing else? No thank you!"

Frowning, the Mayor realised that he'd spoken too soon.

**/X\**

The people of Dirt slept soundly, under the spell that their new Sheriff was a tenacious, kind-hearted paladin. Of course they failed to notice as he slithered unceremoniously beside the notorious outlaw Rattlesnake Jake, waxing lyrical of his defeat of the great hawk as they made their way into town.

Jake, although stoic in face, was amused by how the exotic constrictor was so animatedly describing his battle with the blasted bird. It was down right entertaining.

"-whipping around the town's narrows, I ran from the beast, slithering so that their was barely a hair's width between me and her talons-"

"What the name of hell?" the pit viper interrupted, coming across a right mess of a path. The water tower was toppled over, the gravel and long since dry particles of sand spilling onto the road.

"Oh that's where I accidentally toppled the tower and killed the hawk." Rango explained bluntly, not exactly picking up why the rattlesnake appeared to be frozen in thought. "Sorry for giving 'way the ending."

Jake was debating internally whether or not he should kill or kiss the snake beside him. The loony took down an avian at least thrice his size, surviving with only surface damage. And didn't even seem to care all that much.

"Poor bird. Don't know why I couldn't reason with her. I mean I can speak with everybody just fine 'cept those pig-things and those...dinosaur chickens. Is there a weird social or language barrier between certain species?"

Definitely a loony.

"Everyone knows you can't speak with them ferals Sheriff." the outlaw looked incredulously at the lawman. Even living way outside civilisation, Jake could identify the differences between an animal you ate and one you talked with (or both, he wasn't one for discriminating).

Sensing suspicion, Rango quickly covered up his lack of information with "I lived in a real big commune, everybody talked and I've never really had contact with a creature that didn't." Not truly a lie, pet shops and shelters were always unbearably noisy and the humans seemed to think that he couldn't hear them half the time.

The cogs and gears in the sidewinder's head spun, trying to find a contradiction in the Sheriff's story and character. "All right."

The quick acceptance confused Rango, usually he'd have to spin a yard of yarn just to make something sound believable. Before he could question the rattlesnake, Jake had all ready pushed past him and slithered towards the bank.

"He's most certainly not what I had in mind for a blood-thirsty bounty hunter." Rango muttered lowly, following behind.

**/X\**

Hands shook and breaths were held as the townsfolk caught glimpse of the two serpentine figures slipping into town. One was identified as the newly crowned Sheriff Rango, the other Rattlesnake Jake, the most notorious bounty hunter and thug this side of the border.

And they were conversing as if they were friends.

The townsfolk knew that certain powers thought of them as feeble-minded hill-billies slowly dying of thirst and maybe they were true, but they knew a stinker if there ever was one. And the Sheriff hanging around Jake was a big honking red flag.

Were the two partners in crime? Probably. Other than saying that he was from the far west, the green Sheriff hadn't said much about himself. They could even be brothers! No, probably not. What use would a demon have for family?

As the fearful citizens pondered until their ponderers were sore, the two snakes sat in coils near the bank entrance. It was mighty boring, Rango wondered if he'd have to do this every night.

"Tell me, Sheriff." Jake broke the silence, his eyes fixated on the road in front of him. "How come you didn't get spit-roasted the moment you walked into town?"

That stumped the python. He honestly didn't really know why anyone would hurt him in any way. Say mean things but anything else would be needlessly mean. "Why? Is that a common occurring hazard out here?"

"More common than you'd think."

"Hmm. I think it was either because I told a really good story or I breathed fire. Or something similar." Rango mumbled, trying to recall the exact moment people started giving him praise instead of threats. "I had fabricated a mighty yarn so that I would avoid any verbal lashings."

"I know of the fire part, Bill was pissed. Pissed enough to try and shoot ya dead."

"Well that's how the ol' wes-"

"I'd shoot ya dead too."

The blunt statement caught Rango off guard. Jake was still staring blankly at the road, his transparent eyelid flicking for barely a nanosecond before explaining.

"I hate liars. You lied. If you were going to make a tapestry of yarn at least make one without holes."

"What holes?" the python panicked, what crucial detail could he have missed?

Leaning close, the pit viper bared his fangs and hissed. "You're a **pet**." He nearly spat the last word, the Sheriff curling into a ball.

"H-how could y-you tell?" the constricter stammered.

"You left a trail of dead skin stretching highway to town. Only time I smell any thing out there is a pet, dead, or that strange armadillo feller."

"Oh! You met him too? I guess my vivarium must have made a nasty mess on the road didn't it?" he laughed nervously, hoping that the outlaw wouldn't kill him for lying.

Jake glared at the liar, flicking his tongue out to taste his target's fear. Strangely it was gone. Replaced completely with...relief?

"Whew! Glad I got that off my chest. Thought I'd have to explain it to ya at the last minute." the Sheriff touched the rim of his hat in a near rehearsed gesture and leaned against the wall of the bank. "Now tell me how long has the Mayor hired an outlaw?"

The bounty hunter froze up immediately, how in the name of hell did the Sheriff even figure him out? It would be understandable if the townsfolk told him about his occupation but how did he know about the Mayor hiring him before? "What gave it away? He asked dangerously, the chambers of his gun rotating like a rattle.

"You did. Just now."

He didn't just fall for that did he? _"Jacob Averell Rattlesnake you are a disgrace to your ancestors"_ he mentally scolded himself. He had been taught better than this damn it.

"Plus the Mayor isn't really hush-hush either. I mean dealing with well known thugs and the men who tried to plug me for alcohol fuelled pyromancy out in the open is a poor move. Plus the old-rich-southern-gentleman thing is a bit of a red flag in these situations, especially when he bribes me with a supposedly rationed commodity." pulling the hat over his face boredly, the Sheriff was ready to either be murdered by the potentially antagonistic snake or have a nap.

Jake would have to applaud the outsider. Liar and a pet other wise, at least he was savvy enough to catch on without a lengthy monologue from the Mayor. The last one went on for too long.

"I guess you're gonna kill me now for knowing too much right?" Rango asked, almost upset that his ultimate fate would be so anti-climatic. He was thrown off by his co-worker's answer.

"Nah. Mayor told me to keep you alive. Plus I ain't got enough dirt on you to even want you dead."

"I'm not sure whether I should fear for my life or be flattered that you don't want me dead."

"Why not both?" Jake chuckled darkly, his fangs glinting in the faint lamp light.

Floors above the pair was the Mayor, sitting comfortably in his wheelchair with a large blanket over his knees. His serpentine hit-men continued talking animatedly about whatever nonsense snakes spoke of. He wished deeply for an ear trumpet or a microphone so he could listen to what they were conversing so deeply about.

This was unusual. Normally Jake would have murdered a liar and braggart within seconds of their meeting, but at the moment he seemed to be more interested in how flustered the Sheriff was of an unknown topic. He'd wondered if the outlaw would take interest if not shining to the outsider, but not so quickly. If such a pace was kept, the plan would be completed within the next day.

A shifting of dirt and the apparition of two prairie dogs stirred the snakes from their chatter.

"This ain't the bank!"

"I TOLD you Jedidiah!" the two (obviously brothers) argued, smacking each other.

"Jake is that another common occurrence?" Rango asked confusedly, gesturing to the brawling duo.

"Only if you live in Mole territory. A family tree so twisted it became a tumble weed." he snickered, remembering a few Winters when he accidentally hibernated on their land. Takes a few dry bites and threats of damnation for them to let him leave the following Spring. "Going by the pick-axes, I'd say they're very incompetent bank robbers."

"I though they were bad prospectors."

"Hasn't been gold in these hills since humans dug it all out. 'Sides, this could be decent training for you as a lawman."

"You know? You're right! I'm a go over there and arrest them!" the constricter exclaimed excitedly, slithering towards the pair of thieves."Hold them where I can see 'em!" he barked with his pistol ready.

The currently hiding pit viper watched from beside a store front, hoping that the Sheriff knew how to deal with potential bank robbers.

"Ezekiel! Jedidiah! What the Sam Hill is going on up there_!_? I've had polyps removed smarter than the two of you!" a walking stick appeared just as the two rodents held their paws up in surrender, smacking them crudely across the head as a much older (and blind) mole appeared, sniffing at the air. "Hell's bar! This ain't the bank!"

"Uh Pappy, the new Sheriff is right in front of us." the younger mole/prairie dog (Rango wasn't really sure) stated, pointing at the large serpent and whispering. "An' he's a funny sorta snake."

"I can smell two snakes Ezekiel don't play dummy with me." he took in a long snorting drag of air before turning towards the store front and exclaiming "Jacob! Where ya been you old bastard? We haven't seen you since February!"

Jake slithered out with an irate look on his face, as if he'd been singled out by an older relative at a family dinner. "Yeah yeah. Nice to see ya too Balthazar. How's the clan?"

"Numerous and belligerent as per usual. But what's this other smell clogging up my sinuses?" the patriarch sniffed hard in the Sheriff's direction and gave a sly smile. "Why Jacob, why'd you never tell me you got yerself a lady? And a Sheriff too!"

The two rodent brothers and the green lawman burst into explosive laughter. Jake was paralysed with a crippling sense of embarrassment, the only sign of life from him being muscle spasms in his eye and tail.

The Sheriff took the whole thing in his stride and corrected in between asphyxiated laughter. "Actually 'Pappy' I'm as masculine as you and him."

The old mole seemed to be only a pinch embarrassed, flicking his nose as if it were a faulty instrument. "Much apologies Sheriff. Your scent is a bit foreign to my nose. Gender seems to be it's only weak point."

Jake kept frozen, asking in a growling tone "I'm hoping your not here to steal from this here town while I'm here Balthazar. Or else you got yourself a death wish."

With the laughter dying, the elder mole replied "Nah. If yer here it means the place has gone to the dogs. I'd take my chances pilferin' from the Colorado River over a piss bottle of a water tank, thank you very much. Come on boys! We got river water to be pilferin'!" he gestured for his sons to retreat down into their system of tunnels, waving goodbye to the two serpents with a final. "Take care of my boy there will ya Sheriff?"

"I will Pappy don't you worry about a thing!" Rango waved backed happily, finding himself fond of the screw-ball mole family. Turning to his co-worker he asked "Did'ya eat a lemon Jake? You look mighty sour."

The outlaw hissed dangerously at the lawman before resuming his post near the bank entrance leaving the innocent minded python standing confused in the middle of the street. Just great, the ditzy lawman actually liked the people that embarrassed him the most. He should pray to god that they don't ever get into a lengthy conversation any time soon.

The Mayor had to laugh himself at the exchange. He could pick up the very loud voices of the mole elder and had almost split his sides trying to hold down his braying laughter. Thinking deviously, he thought of how the ill-bred sand eaters could influence his plan.

Looking at the gaping hole in the middle of the street and the currently closed bank, he formed a well constructed goose-chase in his head. Abduct jug of water through the tunnel, blame it on the moles and by proxy the Sheriff for not arresting them, and send both snakes on a wild goose chase as he cleared out the rest of the town.

It's fool proof.

**-The plot thickens! Also I had Rango spill the beans (the legume not the character) to Jake, knowing that the outlaw hates liars. Jake is impressed, Rango is not as clueless as he appears.**


	9. Chapter 9

"**THE BANK'S BEEN ROBBED! OH GOOD LORD!**"

Well that was certainly not the morning rooster. People shook themselves out of sleep and onto the streets to see the bank teller Parsons wailing at the tops of his lungs. As if an alarm was sounded, the entire town quickly awoke and started running about like headless chickens.

"Doctor Marx! I'm on fire! Embrace me." the serpentine Sheriff awoke from his slumber, two cucumber slices falling from his eyes, much to the amusement of the bounty hunter slumbering next to him. The Mayor had let them off early so that they could rest inside the Sheriff's office, unfortunately the two snakes had to squeeze inside the cells in order to get comfy.

"Looks like our watch has been in vain." Jake yawned boredly, taking notice of a quartet of elf owls playing fast-paced mariachi music in the next cell. Turning to the half-asleep lawman, he muttered with a tired tone. "Go on ahead. Mayor will probably introduce me to the townsfolk later."

Stumbling out the door with his holster halfway down his tail, Rango rushed to the bank as quickly as possible, tripping over himself a few times awkwardly before reaching the door. The bank was bursting full of concerned and terrified citizens, all screaming for blood.

"All right, folks! Stand back. Clear the area. This is a crime scene now. Secure the perimeter, dust for prints, check for fibres, scan for DNA! I want a urine sample from everyone and get me a latte. Don't mix up the two."

A large hole had been dug into the floor of the vault, now empty of it's regular occupant. There honestly didn't seem to be any evidence sans a few specks of red (red?) dirt and a cavernous tunnel leading god knows where.

"_Speaking of regular occupants."_ Rango mused briefly. _"I haven't seen head nor bushy tail of Mr Merrimack."_ Even if it were a day off, the anxious squirrel would have definitely been here to inspect the damage and promptly faint.

It took barely a few seconds of "investigating" before the yelling started.

"What do we do now Sheriff?" "Without that water, we're done for!" "I knew we shouldn't a trusted him!"

The Mayor materialised next the Rango, holding up his hands defensively. "My friends! We all know what we have to do."

"That's right! We all know what to do!" The lawman exclaimed excitedly, leaning down towards the Mayor to inquire. "Which would be?"

"Form a posse." the turtle replied in a whispered tone, covering the side of his mouth.

"Form a possum!"

"**Posse**." the Mayor reconfirmed forcefully, taking notice of the citizen's utterly confused looks.

"But Sheriff!" Spoons raised his hand desperately. "Who's gonna be in the posse? Too many of us have crops and youngsters to attend to!"

Rango's brain started working overtime, the gears whirling at a dangerous speed until he came up with a brilliant plan. "Any body who is lacking daily responsibilities are allowed into the roster, as long as their businesses or posts are taken over by a substitute or co-worker."

The wave of agreement swept through the crowd, empowering all except one.

"Yes, but going up against bank robbers such as the Mole clan would be a suicide mission. Their arms and agility are wrought from years of digging. We will need extra muscle." the elderly reptile drawled, licking his lips in anticipation. "And I just know where to get it."

As questions and doubts overtook the townsfolk once more and the Mayor's cronies ran off to collect a certain bounty hunter from his sleep cell, the Sheriff was calmly assessing the situation within his cob-webbed mind.

"_How did the Mayor know that the moles had been here last night? And if he was already so suspicious of them, how come he let me and Jake go off hours before the end of our shift? Interesting."_

"Ladies, gentlemen and other assorted identities." the Mayor addressed the crowd as a preacher would a church, wheeling towards the main door of the bank. "Although this maybe a little unorthodox, even treacherous, I have had to keep a certain being on speed dial just in the events that should call for such an extreme. Please lower your firearms when he approaches, we both hope to keep Dirt in our best interests."

The rattle and clank of a multi-chambered gun sent the whole bank into frozen shock, some too afraid to even breathe as the noise got closer and closer. Rango's heart started pumping rapidly, finally experiencing exactly why the sidewinder was so feared and so avoided.

As if the gates of hell had opened, Jake's eyes rounded the corner, their yellow and red colour blazing brighter than any brimstone or inferno. Portals that if observed close enough threatened to swallow you whole.

And they were fixed on the Sheriff.

The Mayor loved every second of the shock, the fear, the looks that told him who was going to high tail or keel over within the next few minutes of exposure to the serpentine hell-beast. The new Sheriff was rooted to the spot with a more worried than scared look on his face, the only sign of life being a twitch travelling down his back muscles or a flickering tongue tasting the air absent-mindedly.

"Mr Jake has generously agreed to act as our quote-on-quote 'bloodhound' for capturing these crooks. His skills and knowledge in the area are indispensable to our cause." People were too scared to comment, one or two old timers had outright passed out after a mere ten seconds of the pit viper's presence. Turning to the brown snake with an expectant smile, the Mayor offered. "Jake, please explain to these people what you are hoping to do to catch these bandits."

"Kill them." The tone was icy and short, the delivery hitting as if somebody had stabbed the Sheriff with a glacial knife.

"Please elaborate some more dear Jacob, the few and meek have little knowledge of your motives or the reason why you wish such a fate upon the Mole clan."

With rage boiling underneath his scaly hide, Jake sneered at the turtle, the disdain and fire leaking out and seemingly infecting the crowd with it's venom.

"No way!" "All the years of terrorising and he's gonna get a brownie point?" "I knew we shouldn't have trusted the newcomer! Snakes bring nothing but trouble!"

His tail rotating at high speed and flashing his fangs, Jake quickly quelled the burst of anger, explaining roughly "The head lied to my god damn face! Said he'd never come near this here town with me and the Sheriff guarding it."

The last few words had the crowd all turn to face Rango, looks mixed with betrayal and confusion adorning their features. The python gulped on air, trying to think of an explanation that wouldn't end up killing him.

That choice however was annulled when Jake slithered threateningly around the smaller snake, almost completely circling him whilst keeping his eyes on the townsfolk.

"Your _Sheriff_ here," he pronounced "Sheriff" as if it were one of his many deadly curses. "Has kindly agreed to take me on as a second gun for the duration. And if it doesn't mean anything to y'all, I promise to track down these varmints and personally tear them to shreds. **NO ONE** lies to me."

The circle of coppery scales around the Sheriff seemed to tighten, as if the outlaw planned to strangle him if he even dare breathe. Rango was fully panicking now, either he'd face being chased off by angry villagers or have the air squeezed out of him from the demon encasing him.

"Now wait just a cotton pick-" before he could even finish his sentence the pit viper swung around and hissed loudly, splattering what was most likely venom around the lawman.

"**You're** the one who accepted the offer Sheriff! Unless you want to go out of here in a pine box I strongly suggest that you let my do my job."

"No."

The entire bank's supply of oxygen evaporated right there and then. Eaten away by shocked gasps. The most feared bounty hunter in the west, the most ferocious outlaw this side of the border, and a snake said to have slithered out of hell itself, was just given a big fat **No**.

"I'm the law around here Jake. Just because you have a gun and the itch to shoot doesn't mean that I'm gonna bend to your will. These good people want the closure that their water is okay and that I am not a scoundrel like yourself. I implore you to allow them to come and assist us on our mission."

Rango was sure that he was dead and made the most of it by at least sound a bit admirable. He stared straight at Jake's face, watching it seemingly crack and erupt in pure undiluted loathing.

"I personally agree with Mr Rango, Jacob." the Mayor nodded contently, impressed at the gall of his new recruit. "The Moles are an old and innumerably large clan. You'll be dead long before you even reach their territory."

The fear and anxiety of the crowd seemed to steam away. The cool response of their Sheriff engulfing the terror of the fierce outlaw.

"So I suggest heavily that you do not asphyxiate our only lawman before we get our posse together."

Jake realised that he had been uncomfortably squeezing around the python's body, letting his muscles go lax he noticed how a tiny smile spread across the Sheriff's face as if the only danger was invasion of his private bubble.

Snorting like a bull, the sidewinder growled "FINE. But listen here Sheriff." he tilted the lawman's head so that red and yellow eyes met. "If your posse turns out to be a hindrance, I swear that I will devour them whole."

"Not now Jake, it's not even lunchtime yet." Rango slithered off happily, the crowd following suit in an attempt to distance themselves farther away from the outlaw as possible.

With the bank now empty save for the Mayor and his cronies, Jake let out a loud undulating groan.

"Now now Jacob. I understand that Mr Rango can be a bit grating on the senses, but there is no need to be wrathful towards him." the turtle patted his hit-man on the metaphorical shoulder, trying to stop a potential tirade of bullets from occurring.

"That lawman is trying my patience! He's always obnoxiously cheerful, he has the gall to defy me in public, and..." as his gun chambers lowered and stopped rotating, Jake sighed "I can't find a reason to want him dead."

"Splendid!" the Mayor clapped his hands together happily, wheeling towards the exit. "If you did, he wouldn't be much of a worthy opponent now would he? Well I better go act as a second judgement for the posse. Please don't stew too long about killing your co-worker Jake."

**/X\**

A small team was put together quickly.

Certain people such as the barkeep, the general store owner, Doc,Wounded Bird, and a few guys from the saloon decided to join despite their basic instincts telling them to flee from the colossal rattlesnake.

As the posse met up inside the bank where they decided to follow the tunnel left behind by the moles. It was cavernous and indescribably long, apparently going on for miles and miles underground.

Jake stood off to the side for most of Rango's protocol, which consisted mostly of false calm and intellect meant to spur on the team into hunting down the convicts. The folks completely and utterly ignored the copper giant to their lefts, more engrossed with the Sheriff''s lyrical instructions to pay much attention.

He felt like nodding off until a tiny lady lizard walked over and looked him dead in the eye. What was her name? Beans or something, that tough as balls rancher the Mayor's been having trouble with? Well he'd had to applaud her, not a lot was able to get under the old bastard's skin.

"Listen here, Snakey." she held up her finger as if it were a loaded gun. "I don't like your involvement in this one bit. I know a bad apple when I see one and this whole situation is rotten to the core. But the Sheriff seems to trust you and I myself trust his better judgement. No matter how much nonsense he's got going on upstairs."

Jake stared amused. He could see why the older reptile was having trouble with her. She cut to the chase instantly without holding anything back.

"Of course, I find you have been abusing that trust I will personally see to it that the last thing you see is my BOOT grinding your face in!"

The sidewinder flinched in a startled manner. Not many would tell him off, and none up until now were stupid or brave enough to threaten him. _"Note to self: Do not anger small iguana woman."_ he mused as Miss Beans rejoined the posse at the mouth of the hole.

Slithering over, Jake briefly wondered exactly why the Mayor was spying on him and Rango last night? Well he's long since stopped caring about what his boss does, if he got an answer he'd probably wouldn't like it.

If the Mayor is wanting him to retrieve the water with these kooks he'd just have to accept it. After all he hasn't even been paid for his work yet.


	10. Chapter 10

The posse lined the rim of the tunnel entrance (though not without the Sheriff shaking off the young girl mouse that insisted on joining), briefly wondering how the bank robbers could get it so deep and circular without any evidence of a misplaced pebble or even shoe print.

"Doesn't look like your run of the mill mole hole." the pit viper commented, startling the rest of the party with his clear tone. "If they'd taken the water with them, they would've struggled pretty bad, ya know constant modifying of the hole and trying to turn it sideways without it crushing 'em. This thing looks like it was mapped out."

"Truly?" the older gentlemanly owl (Ambrose if he wasn't mistaken) asked in an amused tone. The gambler had little experience with those beyond what he considered civilisation and saw the mission as a learning experience.

"Varmints must've been planning this for a _real_ long time." Beans spat with fire in her eyes, spurned on by the memory of water being carelessly dumped in the desert. If the crooks dared to do such with their water may they be drown. "Why only now?"

"I'd say the Sheriff. No offence to you sir, but you're arrival must've spooked these robbers into gear." Buford theorised, chomping on his ashy cigar.

"Ain't sucha bad ideer." the old hoatzin mumbled, playing with his unlit torch. "Probably thought it was their last chance."

"You'd think they'd have the common sense to fill it back up." Rango quipped thoughtfully, causing eyes to fall upon him. "I mean if I'd want to steal say an heiress's dowry, I'd make sure that no one could find me again. Or know that I was even there."

"They panic. Run without thought. If they have water they'd drink it by now." the crow stated clearly, a hint of fear in his voice.

"Best we not just stand here and chat then!" Rango exclaimed excitedly, plunging head first into the entrance with a loud "GEROMINO!" only to echo with a sore "Ow." upon hitting the bottom.

The posse followed behind quickly, lighting their torches (including the prospector lantern strapped to the Sheriff's hat) so that they weren't blind whilst underground. Peering over the side and briefly reconsidering his actions, the bounty hunter's mind was made up when his muscles gave way and plunged him right in after the party.

Jake fell into the tunnel with a loud comical _smack!_

Unperturbed by the sudden drop as long as he hadn't smushed anyone under his scales, he cautiously licked at the cool cavern air, just waiting for a stray mole to stumble through one of the many damn-near claustrophobic passages. Situated at the rear of the posse as per the travel plan so that no possible assailants could ambush them from behind, although in truth the Sheriff had placed him there to stop sudden flights of cowardice from abandoning the party.

Rango squeezed uncomfortably through the tunnels, his soft pudgy flesh was proving to be an area of concern and the python anticipated himself getting stuck inside a narrower passage sooner or later. Jake seemed to be doing well, mostly because he was quite used to moving underground from years of burrowing and hiding in malleable sand.

A loud _clang_ was heard as the Sheriff's forehead collided with a brass pipe.

Not from an assailant, but from above him.

"Would you look at that!" "Like seein' the face of God!" "Amen brother." Praise and admiration was poured onto the brass tube, the party briefly forgetting their mission for memories of a happier time.

"Must be a reason she quit on us." the grizzled bobcat growled in suspicion.

"Whatever the reason, somethin' is controlin' this here water." Beans affirmed, glaring at the pipe as it were a suspect.

"Every pipe's got a control point. Suppose if one with impure intentions were to find said control point." Jake muttered darkly, ignoring the looks of confusion from the posse as slithered past the pipe.

"What do ya think Sheriff?" Waffles asked the python lawman.

"Uuuhh..." Thinking quickly, Rango decided that purple prose would suffice as his answer "Clearly the robbers came from this direction. I say we track this pipe back to its hydraulic origin and apprehend the culprits behind this aquatic conundrum."

"What did he say?" "I think he said follow the pipe." "He said follow the pipe." "Follow the pipe."

Moving cautiously down the system of tunnels and holes guided by the pipe, Jake briefly wondered why they couldn't just go topside? The moles were well able to dig tunnels that stretched over miles of land. If they got to the end of their path, they'd more than likely end up inside Pappy's powder room or die from suffocation.

It was quite surprising to have it end only after a few minutes of careful wandering. The air had become strangely cooler and wet, enticing a few complaints from the older members of the posse while the Sheriff seemed to be unaware of the sudden change in humidity.

They found themselves inside a absolutely huge cavern, bone dry sandstone spires gnarled with dead roots hung from the ceiling like icicles, threatening to fall and impale intruders. An odd mist shrouded the bottom of the cave, more than likely protecting dew covered spires from detection.

"What is this place?" the horned toad whispered fearfully, not used to the height and dark.

"It's an Aquifer." Beans explained briefly, following after the Sheriff.

"What's an Aquifer?"

"Well it's fer aqua." Buford jokily grumbled.

Jake couldn't help feel a sense of being watched as they ventured further over a stony gapped bridge. He swore he saw a colossal yellow eye lazily blink at the party of dungeon crawlers, it's pupil alone holding all of them. He shrugged it off as a trick of the torch lights, even as the old battered doctor took a swig of what was no doubt "medicinal" alcohol and remarked on it's size.

The trail ended abruptly when their brassy trail ended with a solid rock wall.

"It's the end of the line." "Don't go no further." "Now that there is a pipe!"

As the posses continued to converse, and within a few verses argue, the outlaw noticed the Sheriff climb quite nimbly over the smooth metal of the pipe, staring upwards thoughtfully.

The larger snake was suddenly shoved aside as the argument amongst the posse had escalated into an all out fight between two older members. Before Jake could bare his fangs and rattle his gun, the Sheriff interrupted with an annoyed "Quite you savages! Stop your battlin'. You're effectin' my cogitation."

The fight ceased just as it had begun.

Straining to think, the python had an epiphany. "Ooh! Put your torches out." Extinguishing the flame in his hat-lantern.

Now what good would that do exactly? Then we'd be underground, blind with no exit except to go back where we started.

Light peaked out from cracks in the deep roots, giving them a clear escape route.

"Smart thinkin' there feller." Spoons praised causally, clambering up onto the pipe with the others.

"One problem Sheriff." Jake commented after a minute of consideration.

"Yes?"

"How do you suppose we get up there without working limbs?" he asked angrily, wondering if the lawman had completely forgotten his species' capabilities.

He was shutted up when the Sheriff quite calmly wrapped his entire pudgy body around the roots, demonstrating flexibility that most desert serpents could only dream of. Hanging his head off the improvised roots like an acrobat, the python replied "Like this."

Slack-jawed the pit viper instantly shot back "I can't do that! 'Less you have a fancy crane or giraffe, I **ain't** getting up there." His protest was cut short as the Sheriff coiled around Jake's lower body, effectively hoisting him up and with great difficulty, dragged him to the surface through a large hole in the topside roots.

"There! Now that wasn't so much of a problem." Rango chirped happily, waiting for the rest of the stunned posse to join him on ground level.

The outlaw stared daggers into the Sheriff's back, as if trying to bend the forces of the universe to strike him down with a thunderous bolt of divine retribution. How even dare he to make the feared bounty hunter look even a tiny bit inferior, he's dealt with enough of that from certain other reptiles.

Shaking himself out of murderous rage for the sake of the job, Jake noticed one creepy detail about the area.

There was dead cacti all around them.

The posse gasped at the chilling sight, the rings of dead or dying Spanish daggers went on what seemed to be miles and miles, some just barely holding on even when they were completely toppled over.

"Poor things..." Beans whispered sadly, looking at a cracked off leaf in pity. "All they wanted was a drink of water."

"Cactus dying of thirst? It don't bode well." Furgus mumbled in a fearful tone.

The party took a quick look at their guide/outlaw/general nuisance, capturing a rare image of confusion on the terror's unflinching face.

This plain didn't make any sense to the sidewinder. He knew the Mayor had been extorting water from the townsfolk. But enough to kill cactuses? Really?

"You 'kay there Angel-Eyes? You look pretty shaken." the lawman asked quietly, addressing the outlaw with the title of a famous Western villain (though it was likely that _The Good, the Bad and the Ugly_ didn't exist in this world).

"This ain't normal drought Sheriff. Some cactuses die in the dry season sure but not..." he paused taking in the gravity of death and bone-dryness around him. "...this many. Especially all at once in the same place."

"Sheriff! Come over here!" the portly owl screeched, pointing to something he found whilst examining the hill side.

Lo and behold a certain bushy tailed banker was lying back first on the burning sand, dead as a doornail with his eyes stuck in a state of half closure.

"It's Mr Merrimack from the bank!" "What is he doing here?" "Everybody stand back!" "Look like them vermins shot him in the back."

"All right. Lemme see." Doc hopped over, placing his good ear to the cadaver's chest. Only to hear and feel a suspicious squelch coming from the chest cavity. "This man wasn't shot. He was drowned!"

"Drowned?" "In the desert?" "What a way to go."

"Hey now, who's footprints are those?" the old bobcat question distractedly. Closer inspection around the body showed a strange red sand print of a boot.

Touching it with his snout, the Sheriff concluded "It's still wet."

"Couldn't of been moles." Jake commented, staring intensely at the print. "They only got a few shoes per burrow, you think they'd sully them by getting 'em wet?"

"If they were found out just maybe." the python shrugged, allowing an awkward silence to fall amongst the mourners.

"Suppose we should bury him." Beans said, emotionally tired from seeing death plague those close to her.

"Dunno. Birds gotta eat too." Elgin looked upwards, expecting a hawk or whatever to carry the corpse off with little complaint, backed up with Waffles cheerful "Circle of life!"

As the party lowered their hats in respect (Jake surprisingly included), Spoons tugged on the lawman's vest. "Sheriff will you say a few words?"

Trying to remember if he'd ever watched an eulogy scene, Rango was able to salvage a few choice phrases. "We are gathered here today to honour this man, Mr. Merrimack. You have the right to remain silent. Speak now or forever hold your peace. Amen."

The group were accepting of the odd speech and none less placed their hats back onto their heads.

"Hey what's that dad-gum Indian doing?" Buford pointed to Wounded Bird, who was currently looking over a hill whilst scattering his chest feathers.

"I see you're consulting with the spirits." Rango said interested in the stoic crow's customs. Jake stood off to the side, feeling second-hand embarrassment on the green snake's part.

"No. I'm moulting. Means I'm ready to mate."

"Oh! I'll keep that in mind."

The bird stabbed at a pink piece of food on the ground with his staff and raised it to the Sheriff's eye level. "Cactus fruit."

"Ah yes the ancient cactus fruit. I believe your people use it as seasoning when preparing your native dishes." He plopped to entire fruit into his mouth, only to get a crucial detail on the snack moments later.

"Also natural laxative." Wounded Bird smirked as the Sheriff spat out the fruit, not wanting to acquire the runs any time soon. "Shh, pick up trail! Three men, heading west. One blind, one with...enlarged prostate, riding sidesaddle."

"What he say?" "They're ridin' sidesaddle!"** "**Shh, we're whispering!" "What'd he say?" "Someone's got a bad valve!"  
"Alright, which one of you fellas needs a checkup?" Doc stepped forward, snapping a rubber glove onto his finger, misinterpreting the squabble and causing an uncomfortable silence.  
"Awkward." the crow coughed.  
"What...exactly do we do now?" the dimwitted horned toad asked.  
"Now we **ride!**" the Sheriff burst forward dramatically, looking expectantly over to the quartet of burrowing owls ("Have they been with us the whole time?" Jake asks the others lowly). "It means we are riding **now!** This second."  
The mariachi music burst into life.  
**/X\**  
Jake was confused about a lot of things these past few hours. Not just because the unnatural drought, not just because that banker feller ended up dead, not just because the moles likely had nothing to do with it, but because apparently the mariachi band had brought their steeds, supplies and appropriate music for the situation. Confusing indeed.  
He thought boredly of many things whilst inside of the covered two-hog-driven wagon he shared with the Sheriff. Most of the posse had brought roadrunners but for creatures of a...grander girth, a few javelinas were required to lug them around. Plus the runners wouldn't be held down by the supplies currently taking up room in the wagon.  
The Sheriff was happily holding onto the reins of the hogs and with a few encouraging pointers from Miss Beans, was soon controlling them like a pro.  
By the time their breadcrumb trail of cactus fruit had begun to thin, night had already fallen, casting an inky black cover over the desert.  
The party had decided to camp out near a rocky incline which to Jake's memory of the area, left them about an hour's ride from the mole's burrowing grounds.  
The fire was lit, the sleeping mats were laid out, the food and snacks were unpacked for roasting. As thin cuts of marbled fatback (brought for the meat eaters in the group) sizzled away on a frying pan and shishkabops of fried tomatoes, onion and peppers stuck out of the fire like a crown, Rango wondered where Jake had run off to. Hopefully the outlaw was merely 'doing his business' or grabbing firewood and surely wasn't preying upon a stray desert wanderer.  
It had taken a few whiffs of cooked fat to remind the python that he hadn't eaten in a real long time. His owners had seen it fit to feed him a mouse at least once a week (as per normal for a snake his size). Often the routine would fall out of use if the snake became stressed, improperly contained or some owners just plum didn't care. He would three-week gaps of hunger per owner or in the worst case when he was but a teen : an entire month due to a very loud handsy child owner.  
Being offered a strip by Elgin, the old bobcat nearly lost his fingers to the starving serpentine Sheriff, who took a rather large bite out of an unusually sized bean being past around. Although the felling of hunger still swelled, he'd left most of the food to the others.  
After most of the pans had been put away and the last giant bean was passed around the circle, Waffles pulled out a bag full of pink and white marshmallows. Skewering them on sticks he passed around to everybody, staring at his own while it roasted a bit too close to the fire.  
"Marshmallows remind me when I used to go camping with my daddy. I could eat them all night long!" His stick caught fire, leaving him to stare at it sadly as it was stolen by Buford's sticky tongue. "Course he did make me cough 'em back up again for breakfast."  
"This one time I ate a whole Dalmatian." the barkeep boasted.  
The bobcat was wringing out his socks into his cup (waste not, want not) and exchanged "That ain't nothin'. I coughed up a whole tribe of pygmies. They started lookin' at me weird."  
"I remember them they was quite friendly." Furgus recalled thoughtfully, scratching his wrist.  
"I found a human spinal column in my fecal matter once."  
The camp had suddenly become silent at Spoon's comment. Sergeant Turley leaned over and suggested "You might want to get that looked at."  
""Heh heh. Pass the bean Beans." Doc nervously asked, taking the large purple bean from the iguana.  
Spoons spoke up once more, now not about bodily functions. "Mr Rango, can you tell us about the Spirit of the West?"  
"That is if you know any." Doc corrected, mindful that his patient had likely never even spent a night outside before.  
Mumbles of agreement rumbled through the group and the snake found himself obligated to make a nice yarn for them. Grabbing a glowing skewer and tracing pictures with the vapour, he mapped out what he thought the other side was like.  
"Ah yes! The...Spirit of the West. The eternally unobtainable idea. They say he rides in an alabaster carriage with golden guardians to protect him. But he only appears to those who have undertaken an epic quest...and have made it to the other side."  
Of course the "other side" depicted in fire held a t-rex, TIE-fighters, a big X followed by dots and a myriad of strange and confusing images.  
"Uh...the other side of what?"  
"It's a metaphor." he replied leaning on the stick before it broke under his weight. "Pardon."  
"Sheriff what are you going to do about..." Ambrose whispered as if the person in question had ears everywhere. "Rattlesnake Jake?"  
A rattling noise from Spoons' signature instrument startled everyone. The mouse sheepishly putting them away with a "Sorry about that. Word is, you come against him once or twice before."  
"Oh! Yeah. You mean as my co-worker. We met when we were employed together to protect a bank, a high profile job given to use by the town's Mayor." Now that wasn't entirely a lie now was it? Even if he's omitting which exact town.  
"Did he ever bite you?" the elderly shop keep asked amazedly.  
"If he did I don't think you'd find the evidence after the number the hawk did on me."  
"Doesn't included future bites now does it?"  
The crisp voice of the sidewinder startled them all, wondering how long the outlaw had been listening in. They at least had a fair idea what the snake was up to. His face was scratched up and his scales were lightly crushed.  
The posse hoped that he'd already eaten but their prayers went answered when a dead feral rat was lifted from his coils and hung limply from his fanged mouth.  
"Oh dear lord!" "The...ugh!" "Seriously you couldn't have eaten it alone?"  
"Jake!" the Sheriff disciplined the bounty hunter. "Not at the campfire."  
"Mm mmhm mm M-hm Mh!"  
"Don't talk with your mouth full either."  
"Wants to share with Sheriff." Wounded Bird explained bluntly, picking up the rattlesnake's body language.  
"Really?"  
"Mh."  
Thinking over the consciences of eating a freshly killed (and likely invenomated) rodent with a dangerous criminal, Rango followed after him with a hungry "Okay!". Leaving the party to conduct their own postprandial grace to the Spirit of the West.  
Rango could hear them asking each other to stand and hold hands from behind the rock where he and Jake were splitting the meal (Jake got head and chest, Rango the belly and rump) and swallowing them whole without problem.  
Slithering back to the campsite, the Sheriff was at least able to join in the speech delivered by Spoons (who to Rango's knowledge was deeply religious) while Jake stood well away from the circle.  
"Ain't always spoken rightly to you, Spirit of the West, but tonight I wanna thank you for bringing Sheriff Rango into our lives. It's a hard life we got. Sometimes I don't know how we're gonna make it, but somehow Sheriff Rango makes me think we will. We needed a brave man and you sent us one. As for Rattlesnake Jake, I even believe that the Sheriff can set him straight. Nice to have someone to believe in again. Thank you, Spirit of the West. Amen."  
"Amen." chorused through the group. Jake decided to let the "set straight" comment fly for now.  
As the others prepared to settle down for the night, the fire was put out by kicked sand, the licked-clean dishes were re-packed, ratty old blankets were laid down, and the Sheriff was subjected to Doc rubbing antiseptic into his not-so healed wounds before he could turn in.  
Rattlesnake Jake doesn't sleep well out in the open. Never has. Stuffing himself back inside the covered wagon, he observed how his "charges" were now fast asleep in his presence, placing their absolute trust in their Sheriff protecting them from any bullet or venom related assault.  
Just as he was about to head off into sleep, the sidewinder got a glimpse of the Sheriff removing himself from a sleeping mat and slither over to a still Miss Beans.  
He could see that the girl was more than worried about the state of both the town and the land around it. The python was soothing her concerns with words of hope and aspiration, promising to bring back or at least find the lost water.  
So full of misguided hope. Just like the scores of young cocky settlers that tried to tame this wild land. All of them ending up dead or tied to a factory job and a nine-child family to feed with no taming in sight. Even if he stared with his big happy yellow eyes and smiled his adorable fanged grin, there was little hope that the hardened Miss Beans would be entirely convinced into excitement.  
"_Wait a minute 'adorable'?" _the outlaw scolded his narrative thoughts.  
Placing a platonic peck on the rancher's cheek, he Sheriff slithered off towards the wagon. Instantly noticing that it's occupant was awake, he leaned against the driver's seat and said in an apologetic tone.  
"Hope you aren't too mad about today."  
Jake raises his head in questioning.  
"I mean I don't even rightly know if these moles are even connected to our conundrum and we might be sacrificing supplies, time, and your loner reputation if we're wrong."  
Jake rolls his eyes tiredly.  
"Even if they did rob the bank, you said yourself, they'd would normally used those methods nor would they have left boot prints. And that still leaves the question of why the town has been drying up and-"  
Jake drags the mouthy Sheriff into the wagon and mumbles between fields of consciousness "Go the fuck to sleep."  
And sleep they do.

**-Fun fact : Pythons are ridiculously good climbers and some can even live in trees. Rattlesnakes not so much, as they only climb anything if ground dwelling prey becomes scarce and are forced to go after birds.**

**Action with the moles in the next chapter!**


	11. Chapter 11

"I'm gonna skin you ALIVE boy!"

Th posse watched the bickering father-son pair from the safety of the canyon edge, the Sheriff peering at them through binoculars.

"Choleric varmints aren't they?" he muttered, his grip slipping every so often.

"Dysfunctional family. Need intervention." Wounded Bird stated, watching as the mole elder continued to smack the younger with a stick.

"What's that coming?

The sound of a wagon turned their attention to the youngest mole as he rode into the canyon, a giant tarp covered jug in tow. The rest of the party rose up thirstily, just begging to get a taste of the precious liquid treasure.

A sudden idea came to the Sheriff. A silly but effective idea that would need a lot of cooperation. "I have a plan, and each and every one of you has a part to play."

"What do I do?" the old mouse held up his hand warily.

"Spoons you got the most important job of all. You stay up here on the ridge and if anything goes wrong, you give _**the signal.**_" Rango wasn't very sure why they needed an eye in the sky but if westerns have taught him anything, it's that there's all ways someone with a signal.

"Please indulge us why we even need a whistle-blower?" Jake asked, situated well away from the party and irritated by last night's broken sleep.

"Just in case things go awry." the python explained happily. "Of course the plan requires a grand diversion and a heap of fabric."

"Pardon?" the outlaws eyes widened as the Sheriff slithered over to the wagon and pulled out a chest filled with costumes and theatre effects.

"I packed these just before we set off. Okay now can anyone fit into a size 6?"

Jake stood agape. The posse were, without protest or uncertainty, putting on brightly coloured joke attire and filling their guns with bullets, the Sheriff inquiring Miss Beans on her dress size before the two disappeared behind the wagon.

Doc chuckled at the rattlesnake's confusion and commented "Best we not question Sheriff Rango. He might be just short of crazy but we need all the crazy we can get.". He squeezed on a metal helmet and hopped off to complete his disguise.

Rango and Miss Beans appeared seconds later with swapped wardrobe.

"What...in the name of all that is hell fire are you wearing?" Jake asked, wishing that he could block the image from his mind.

"Oh come on now, I'm not _that_ ugly!" Rango nearly sang, practising a falsetto for his role.

Miss Beans shrugged from within her poncho-turned-dress and grumbled "He fits it better than me."

"Mister Rattlesnake Jake, there's a costume for you too!" the suited horned toad called over, holding up a very long tubular piece of cloth.

The outlaw swore internally and shot a look that could kill a thousand men towards the smaller snake, who simply grinned into a mirror and fixed a red ribbon onto his hat.

Below them the three moles praised the Lord as they held the water jug in their grasp, blinded to how the youngest was trying to speak.

"Ya did it son!" Pappy belted out in pride, slapping his offspring on the shoulder.

"Well actually-" Ezekiel tried to explain but to no avail.

"Why can't you be all brainy like your brother?" the mole elder continued to berated and smack his older son about with his seeing stick.

"Pappy, about that water, there's something I gots to tell you."

"Hush-hush up now. Somebody's coming."

Rumbling steps and twirly fluted music filled the still air, announcing the arrival of the posse.

Decked to the nine in multicoloured theatre garb and tossing flowers and confetti into the air.

Jake was slithering in unison with the Sheriff, adorning what was likely the ugliest pinstripe suit he'd ever seen. It took a great deal of effort to wrangle the outlaw into the suit but after the Sheriff had to literally wrestle on a bow tie he lost the will to fight.

"If god be my witness I'll kill anyone who laughs." Jake growled under his breath, the Sheriff responding by slapping his snout with a handkerchief.

"Good sirs, gracious good afternoon to thee and thee and thee. May I present Monsieur & Madame Lupone's Terpsichorean Troupe of Travelling Thespians!" the python called out in a high pitched feminine voice, the blue dress he borrowed from Miss Beans flouncing all around him.

The four mariachi owls from earlier were there to provide the music, they themselves dressed up as medieval jesters.

"What is that?" Pappy asked, confused out of his mind by the avalanche of noise clogging his ears. The two younger moles enraptured by the colours and fake programs.

"I think they's thespians."

"Thespians? That's illegal in seven states."

"The stage is set. The princess prepares to take her own life." Rango pulled back two fake palm leaves to reveal a very bored Beans.

"I yearn for love."

"Meanwhile a lone sentry stands watch at the castle gate."

Elgin stood to the side, obviously suffering from stage fright and not remembering the pre-discussed cues.

"**Stands watch at the castle gate.**" Rango reaffirmed, gesturing to the bobcat to pick up the slack.

"Hark! Who goes there?"

"This plots highly predicable!" Pappy complained, only to have his younger son hush him up.

"Arriving to great fan fair was her ageing father..." the owls blew out a loud generic fanfare, alerting the arrival of the geriatric turkey. "...Strucketh by Cupid."

"Uh...prithee unhand my fair daughter and reach for the...uh...the." leaning over he asked the audience. "Line?"

"_**Reach for the skies!"**_ Ezekiel yelled.

Shotguns hidden under clothing were pulled out and aimed at the three bank robbers, the act dropped completely. The lawman and the outlaw nearly circling the three criminals. "We got you surrounded. Put your hands were I can see em."

"W-w-w-what was that?" the elder mole asked as confused as ever with a 24 caliber poking under his chin.

"Must be a very immersive theatre."

Pappy took a long sniff of the air and smiled warmly despite the gun barrels surrounding him. "Well what'd ya know! Jacob and the Sheriff! What are you two crazy kids doing here?"

The posse lowered their guns to let the hell beast pass. Jake's eyes burning with anger and his voice lowering to his signature intimidating octave. "Balthazar you told me you'd get the HELL out of **my** town! Now the banks' empty, the bankers' dead, and you got water. Doesn't take a scholar to figure this mystery out."

"Actually Pappy, I've been meaning to tell ya 'bout the jug see..." Ezekiel walked cautiously over to the wagon and pulled off it's tarp. The whole group gasped as they realised that the contents...were none. "I found it in the desert."

"Then why in **TARNATION** would ya bring it here?!" Pappy thwacked his son on the back of the head, disappointed by the lack of liquid.

"Hold up now." Rango slithered forward to block the angry posse from tearing the rodent trio a new one. "You saying this was empty when you found it?"

"We kept our word and tunnelled to the lake side few mile 'way." Jedidiah mumbled, twiddling his fingers. "But people in yellow hats and vests told us to buzz off. Dead feller musta been whacked by someone else."

"What sort of people?" the Sheriff asked suspiciously, getting a gut feeling that his employer had something to do with this.

"An entire days worth of tunnelling' wasted!" Pappy hollered in rage, waving his seeing stick like a rifle. "These city slickers come up to us and say 'your not supposed to be here, this here be a construction site'. Ahh phooey! Who ever heard of a lake being under construction? I was 'bout to chase 'em off when some ugly bastard started blasting his gun at us!"

Jake pushed forward and urged with a raised brow "May I inquire on what the 'ugly bastard' in question was like?"

"Lizard. British or something. All bad tobaccy and no manners."

The Sheriff and the bounty hunter immediately locked gazes, sharing the same look of clarity and declared with utmost certainty "Bad Bill."

"Now this dun make a lick of sense." "Let's string em up now!" "Who'd dump water in the desert?"

"Sorry Pappy, but without proper evidence of the contrary, I'm gonna have to take you and your boys in." Rango said sadly, not exactly wanting to arrest the three screwballs.

The elder mole sighed in annoyance and whistled loudly to the air. "I got a buncha witnesses Sheriff."

The ground shook as hundreds of moles and prairie dogs tore out of the rock and dirt. Some of them were chanting a strange poem as they wiped grime and dust off of themselves. They completely surrounded the group, just daring them to make a wrong move.

"O-kay that's a lot of witnesses." Rango near whimpered at the sheer size of the clan. "But seeing how y'all from the same familial group, I can't say for certain that their word would be valued. I'm gonna have to take statements from all of them before I bring ya in."

The posse groaned as they were instructed to take down notes, times, and locations from the hundreds and hundreds of suspects.

**/X\**

The posse rode back to town grimly. The ride back was uneventful and went surprisingly quick as the moles suggested a short cut through some of their tunnels.

With no water in tow and with three suspected bank robbers, the situation was looking mighty bleak for the town of Dirt. People hung off the sides of store fronts, clutching there chests in fear of a despair induced heart attack.

Priscilla walked up to the posse and asked sadly "Where's the water?"

"There was no water." Beans answered honestly with a dead tone, drawing small disheartened gasps from the townspeople.

Jake looked at the snake riding with him. Rango was in shock at what happened, his cosy little picturesque western world was now falling all around him, his tale being eaten alive by lies and corruption. With an unfamiliar look in his bright yellow eyes, the Sheriff slithered away with out so much as a word, sending massive chills up the peoples' spines that usually only occurred when Jake was about to kill someone.

"Where's he going?" the posse asked fearfully, hoping that the python would show mercy to who ever he was about to condemn.

"We..." the outlaw corrected, following his work partner. "...are going to see the Mayor."

Finding the Mayor was quite easy. Upon hearing that his favourite hit-men were back in town with a decent trio of scapegoats, he invited them to his daily golfing match.

Rango was about to reject the offer but a quick glare from Jake changed his mind into accepting. If anything the Sheriff could at least get enough information to accuse and or arrest the Mayor himself.

The two were led about a mile and a half away from town into a large empty plain marred with holes and flags. Bad Bill and his cronies were dressed up in well made clothes, clinking martinis, putting and conversing as if they weren't the dregs of society Rango met just two days ago.

"I will admit it Mister Mayor, I have ulterior motives for comin' out here today." he stated clearly for all to hear.

"Ohh?" the turtle asked jokingly, looking up from some blueprints a gopher in a yellow vest was holding up for him. "What motives would those be?"

"It's about the moles." Jake said, accidentally breaking a putter when he tried to wrap his tail around it. "They didn't kill the banker and they probably didn't steal the water. Damn close but they got a pretty strong alibi and a fuckton of witnesses."

"It is a little naive don't you think, to take the word of admitted bank robbers." the Mayor looked uncomfortable and gestured towards the Sheriff. "And once they hang, Mister Rango's job is done."

Bad Bill and his goons clapped in false praise, as if egging the Sheriff into killing three innocent people was nothing more than water cooler talk.

The python was staring daggers into the old reptile's back as he hit the ball (actually a rolled up pill bug) a few feet away from the designated hole. "What if somebody did rob the bank before they got there? Then what?"

"And who would do that, Mister Rango?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"That sounds marginally like an accusation." The Mayor replied with aggression lining his usual drawl.

"That's cus it is." the outlaw confirmed, impressed by the python's gall to bring his suspicions to light.

They continued to putt for at least a few more holes in the hot afternoon sun before a question in the green snake's head threatened to fester right through his brain.

"Something you said keeps spinning round my frontal lobe." he twirled his putter above his head to mimic said spinning.

"And what is that Mister Rango?"

"Control the water and you control everything." pretending to inspect his ball, Rango shot Jake a knowing look, getting a small nod in reply.

The Mayor chuckled at the almost blasphemous statement. "Come now, Mr. Rango. You attribute divine power to me. How on earth could I possibly control the water?"

A pill bug crawled up the Sheriff's putter, startling him and leading him to comment. "You seem to have mastered this game."

"I've been playing it for many years. I was here before the highway split this great valley, I watched the march of progress, and I learned a thing or two." he wheeled dangerously close to the python and pushed his head towards a telescope overlooking one of the many outcrops of land. "Take a look, Mr. Rango. You can already see time passing."

The land beneath was filled with yellow vested workers going to and fro with support beams and tools. The wrought steel supports and concrete floors told only one thing. The skeleton of a city was being constructed right under Dirt's nose.

"What are you building out here?" he asked warily, the more he delved into this mystery the more he feared for his life. It was only the matter of time before this _'Fistful of Dollars'_ style fairytale became a send up to _'The Godfather'_ and he woke up at the bottom of a lake in cement shoes (though if he could even wear the cement shoes was a different matter).

The Mayor held a small glass of brandy as he spoke. Addressing the lawman as if he were a child being lectured. "The future, Mr. Rango. The future. Pretty soon, all this will fade into myth. The wild range, the lawman, the gunslinger. There's no place for them any more. We're civilized now."

Off to the side Bill spat on the ground and shouted "That's right, civilized."

"That's what the future holds. You can either be part of it, or you can be left behind."

Almost boiling with anger and suspicion, the python asked bitterly. "What about Mr Merrimack? Did he get left behind?"

"Careful Mister Ran-"

"What about Jake? Will he get left behind too? You said it yourself there'll be no place for gunslingers in the future let alone an outlaw." He cut the Mayor off, true blue anger brewing in his gut for the very first time in his serpentine life. "And what of me, the lawman? Will I get left behind like the hundreds of others?"

In all the years that Rattlesnake Jake has been alive, he'd never seen the type of fury presented by the Sheriff in front of him. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't so much furrow his brow. He didn't advert his gaze for even a nanosecond as angry tears threatened to pour down the side of his face. It was that day that Jake learnt what "tranquil fury" meant.

"**Easy**, Mr. Rango. You seem to forget you're just one snake." the Mayor attempted to calm the draconian serpent before him. "I'll still have use for you and Jake in future, no doubt about that. But if you continue to give me grief over such matters I can most definitely replace you."

"You seem to forget something Mayor." Rango tipped his hat as a pill bug crawled over the brim. "I'm the law around these parts. And I don't think the people of Dirt will rightly agree to me being replaced."

He threw down his putter and slithered off towards the town, oblivious to the bugs circling his head.

"Our new Sheriff has been playing the hero for so long, he's actually starting to believe it!" the Mayor exclaimed incredulously, absent-mindedly trying to choose a putter.

Jake watched as the Sheriff disappeared out of sight, dumbstruck by the former-pet's unexpected display of bravery. He was snapped out of his thoughts by the Mayor slapping him on the side.

"I want that viridian good doer dead or under control Jake." he lined up a shot. With his ego bruised and a link in his plan weakening, desperate times call for desperate measures. "Don't be too scared to use those god-given fangs of yours either."

The bounty hunter nodded silently. A pain in his gut telling him that such an action wasn't the best idea. As the python had said, what if he himself were to go past "expiratory date" under the Mayor's hand in future? The Sheriff was a box of fireworks in snakeskin, one wrong spark could set him off and destroy everthing.

He didn't like it. But a job is a job. And a lawman is a lawman.

No matter how much you care about him.

/**X\ Sorry for the wait! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please leave a review, I love reading them. :D**


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